Together
by TellMeSomethinIDontKnow
Summary: She was a CIT, he'd been to Juvie. They said it wouldn't work, they said it made no sense. But that never stopped it from happening. After all, they're better Together. -A series of DxC one-shots-
1. Remembering

**Okay, here's the deal: I have a lot of DXC one-shots written. Five actually. So this is what I decided to do: I'm going to post a series of one-shots –starting with this one. They're going to be totally unrelated to one another, some will take place on TDI, others after the show, and some in which TDI never happened. This is the first one, and if you have any suggestions for a one-shot, please tell me.**

**I don't own Total Drama Island. Sad, right? But if I did, you can be sure that I'd put you in it.**

**

* * *

**

Fluffy white flecks fell hastily down onto the sidewalk. It was a blizzard. A violent one. The sky was thick with snowflakes that plummeted down to the snow-covered ground. The wind blew viciously against the trees and houses. The streets were bare and abandoned. No one in their right mind would go out in such weather. Courtney was no exception.

She sat in front of the fireplace, curled in a blanket. The house was empty, save her. The fire crackled behind the glass screen. Flames flickered in Courtney's eyes.

Total Drama Island was over. Long over. It'd been a year and a half since she'd seen the narcissistic host or any of the other campers. Her mind had drifted to that summer many times, but she thought about it less and less. Courtney slowly began to lose mental images of the camp. She would find herself stumbling over names of the campers, too. Sometimes she would have trouble conjuring their images. But there were certain moments that she found she could relive. When Courtney thought about when she had been unfairly voted off, she could feel the same bitter anger she had when she was sixteen. Courtney also remembered the twinge of sadness she had felt when her violin had crashed under the weight of the stage light during the talent show challenge. But the feeling she remembered the most prominently was the feeling of pure, undeniable pleasure when she was with _him_.

Of course, Courtney had not thought about him -or anyone from the show, for that matter- in a while. That's not to say that she had forgotten, she remembered him quite clearly. It was just that she stayed away from the thought as often as she could. Courtney wasn't the type of person that dwelled on past relationships. Especially ones in which she missed the individual terribly. And though she wouldn't admit it willingly, she missed him to the point where she nearly cracked.

But, as it has been said, Courtney was no longer on Total Drama Island. No more challenges. No more competitions. No more sadistic chefs.

Despite the warmth of the fire, Courtney shivered. She got up and slinked over to the kitchen, where she filled the kettle with warm water and placed it on the stove. She turned the dial to high heat and got out a mug from one of the oak cabinets. She had a craving for hot chocolate.

The sudden ringing of the doorbell caused Courtney to jump, spilling the hot chocolate powder all over the counter and floor. Grumbling, she whisked off to the front door, which she opened wide.

A gust of wind caused Goosebumps to rise on her arms. A flurry of snow shot through the open door and flew into the living room. Courtney took no notice; she could only stare at the figure in front of her.

It was _him_.

What was he doing there? Outside _her_ house? She blinked several times, but no answer came.

Getting over her momentary shock and confusion, Courtney noticed that there wasn't a similar surprised expression on the young man's face. This startled her at first, but she then turned angry.

He didn't remember her.

Courtney glared for a moment, but her expression softened when she realized something: It wasn't that he didn't remember her; it was that he didn't _recognize _her.

After her first taste of the 'dark side', Courtney felt odd. Restless. Like she needed more. She needed to do something drastic. He had changed her, in a way. It was like she discovered a different part of herself. A part that needed to be expressed.

With that in mind, Courtney changed her hair. It was dyed a dark chestnut, nearly black in dim light. She grew it out to past her shoulders, and straight-ironed it slick. Her eyes were finely lined with 'blackest black' eyeliner and coated once with mascara that shared the same name.

Discovering that her wardrobe did not fit her new style, she had gone shopping. Her style didn't change drastically, but she did find herself wincing at florescent blues and pinks, dress shirts and flashy jewelry.

Despite her radical change in style, Courtney's personality itself hadn't changed. She had finished her CIT training and had been accepted to an upscale university, where she expected to excel.

"Hi." Courtney stuttered, blinking rapidly. What did he want?

"Uh, hi." He ran a hand through his Mohawk, teal eyes innocent. "I was just wondering if I could use your phone. My car ran out of gas right outside of your house and my cell's battery is dead."

"Oh… of course." Courtney stepped aside to let him in. She slammed the door shut.

"I'm Duncan." Of course he was.

Courtney opened her mouth to reintroduce herself, but something stopped her. She didn't want to get tangled up with him again. It'd been hard getting over the arrogant delinquent, and she didn't want to have to do so again. Besides, he'd be leaving soon enough, right?

"I'll get the phone." Courtney dashed off to get the phone as her old summer fling removed his sneakers.

"Here." She handed him the slim silver phone and perched on the edge of the couch. He hadn't changed very much, she noted. Still, seeing him made her heart beat twice as fast.

Courtney spent the next fifteen minutes listening to Duncan call various friends of his, hoping for help of some sort. After hanging up for the sixth time, he groaned in frustration.

"Shit! _Now _what am I going to do?" He sighed aggravatingly.

"I'll drive you."

Duncan barely registered that Courtney had spoken to him. "What?"

"I'll drive you. To the gas station. I'm sure there's a gas container in the garage."

"Really?" He looked surprised at first, and then smiled. "Thanks."

Courtney nodded. The offer was more due to the nagging concern in her head that she'd better get him out of her house right then than from the kindness of her heart, but it didn't matter. As long as he left.

But as soon as she opened the door, Courtney knew that there was no chance that she'd be able to drive anywhere. It was snowing harder, _much _harder. The wind was so strong that Courtney felt her grip on the doorknob slipping. She pressed herself against the door to get it to close and turned the lock.

"Well… I guess not." Courtney ran a hand through her darkened hair. She looked to Duncan. She didn't want him to stay, but she wasn't about to kick him out. She wasn't _that_ harsh.

"You can stay here until the blizzard dies down and I can drive you."

"Wow… thanks." He slipped off his jacket and tossed it onto the arm of the couch. Courtney noticed that the tips of his ears were pink.

"I'm making hot chocolate. You want some?" She offered.

"Sure. No milk."

Courtney walked off to the kitchen and added an extra cupful of water to the kettle. When she returned, she saw Duncan lounging in front of the fire. She sat on the couch behind him.

"I didn't catch your name." He turned to her, bright blue eyes pressing for an answer.

"Where were you headed?" She asked uneasily, attempting to change the subject.

"Answer me first."

Courtney didn't want to lie, but she couldn't tell him her name. He could easily put two and two together.

"Alex." It wasn't exactly a lie. Her name _was_ Alex- her middle name, anyway.

"So, where were you going?" She asked once more.

Duncan shrugged. "I don't know. I just felt like driving. It isn't like I had anything better to do. The idea kind of backfired, though…" He reclined against the back of the couch and looked at Courtney. "So, tell me about yourself."

"What do you want to know?" She asked cautiously. Too much information could lead him to be suspicious.

"Alright, uhh…" He thought for a moment. "Where are your folks?"

"The Bahamas." She sighed, thankful the question wasn't too personal. "They left me to freeze to death."

Duncan smirked, and Courtney's heart raced. It'd been a long time. Too long.

"So, uh." She mumbled and ran a hand through her hair. "Anything special about you that I should know?"

"Well, I've been to Juvie twice. You should probably know that."

Courtney faked surprise. "Really? What for?"

"Not for murder, if that's what you're wondering."

She shook her head and focused on her knees.

"Okay… any siblings?" He asked.

"Nope. You?"

"Two brothers. Favorite color?"

"Blue. And yours?"

Duncan gestured towards his hair. "Green."

"Do you have a girlfriend?" She instantly regretted the question. But still, she was curious.

Duncan gave Courtney an odd look. "No… why?"

She tried to act casual, as if it was no big deal. She also tried to mask her relief. "Oh, no reason. Just trying to make conversation."

"What about you?"

She bit her lip and averted his gaze. "Nope. No boyfriend."

"Any crazy, obsessed ex-boyfriends I should know about?" He grinned.

Courtney returned the smile, playing along. "Only one. But I'm pretty sure he's in jail."

Duncan chuckled, and Courtney felt a warm feeling rise in her. Their eyes met for a moment, and she hastily looked away, thankful for the dim lighting.

"I think the water is boiling." She muttered and ran off to the kitchen. She returned minutes later with a mug of hot chocolate in each hand. Duncan nodded in thanks as she handed him one.

"Is it too hot?" She asked. He shook his head no.

"It's fine." Courtney settled beside him and brought the drink to her lips. She sipped the chocolate beverage greedily.

"You know, I'm kind of surprised that you're actually letting me stay here." Duncan set his mug down on the coffee table and looked to Courtney. "I usually make an intimidating first impression."

"Yeah, well…" Courtney shrugged. "I wasn't just going to let you freeze outside."

They sipped their drinks silently for a while, not making conversation. Courtney eyed the living room window. It was still snowing.

"So, uh…" Courtney tried to think of something to talk about. "Anything else about you I should know?"

"Well, I was on a reality show."

"_Really_?" She widened eyes, hoping to look surprised. "Which one?"

"Total Drama Island."

"Yeah?"

"That's the _last_ time I ever go on a reality show."

Courtney tilted her head to the right, attempting to look curious. "Why? Was it really bad?"

Duncan scoffed. "Torture. If the food didn't kill you, the challenges would. The people weren't bad, though."

Courtney felt a little smile surface on her face. She tried to cover it with her hair. "Oh?"

He shrugged. "Well, I wasn't friends with _everyone_. Only the select few."

Did the select few include her? Wait- did she care? No, of course not.

The butterflies in her stomach said otherwise.

Though she wasn't facing him, Courtney knew that Duncan was looking at her. The look gave her an unsettling feeling. Her insides squirmed. He looked as if he had seen her before.

And that wasn't what she wanted.

Courtney stood up abruptly and stared at the floor. "I have to, uh, charge my cell because the, uh, battery is dying. Be right back." The excuse was pathetic, but she didn't care. Courtney smiled briefly and hurried upstairs to her room.

* * *

Duncan stared after her as she left. There was something odd about her; something familiar. He looked at the mantle above the fireplace. It was littered with pictures.

Standing up, Duncan peered for closer inspection at the smiling faces. One face, in particular, caught his eye. He grabbed the silver frame and held it close to the fire for better light.

The picture was of a girl with shoulder-length brown hair standing in front of an amusement park. Her face was bright with a smile and her dark eyes were looking right at Duncan.

He frowned. It didn't make any sense. What was a picture of _her_ doing here?

Duncan looked closely into her eyes, and realized they were the same ones that had been on him moments ago.

He set the picture frame back on the mantle and ran a hand through his hair, grinning like an idiot.

* * *

Courtney returned seconds later and sat down on the couch. Duncan turned to her, smiling happily.

"I remember something else from the show, actually."

"Hmm?" She raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Yeah, there was this girl I hooked up with."

"Oh? What was she like?" Courtney tried to mask her anticipation. She wasn't doing a very good job of it.

Duncan thought for a moment. "Bossy. Kind of a bitch."

She clenched her jaw. "Huh…"

"She was uptight, too."

_I am __**not**__ uptight…_ Courtney thought to herself.

"And manipulative."

Courtney clenched her fists with anger, though she tried to keep a collective presence.

"No wonder she didn't win the hundred grand."

Courtney bit her tongue to keep from lashing out at Duncan. It had been _his_ fault that she was unfairly voted off!

"Oh?" She glared daggers. "Then _why _did you hook up with her, if she's such a controlling little bitch?"

Duncan shrugged, oh-so casually.

"I figured I could get into her pants."

That set Courtney off. She shot up from her spot on the couch and shrieked in anger.

"Uh! You disgusting, perverted, irritating PIG! I can't believe I ever liked you! You only liked me because you thought I was easy and-"

Courtney stopped herself. Duncan was grinning.

"Nice to have you back, Princess."

She sunk back down onto the couch slowly. He knew.

"When'd you find out?"

"Just after you left. You've changed a lot… Why didn't you tell me?"

Courtney sighed and hugged her knees to her chest. "Because… I figured if you didn't know, I could just forget about this and move on. If I'd told you it was _me_… well, then you'd know where I live and you wouldn't leave me alone. And _then_ how would I get over you?"

"So instead you lied."

Courtney raised a finger in objection. "Technically, I didn't lie. You asked me my name, and I gave you my middle name. You weren't specific."

"Ah, true." Duncan sighed, and then grinned to himself.

"What?" She asked, noting his smile.

"Nothing, just…" He looked Courtney in the eye, a mysterious longing flickering. "I missed you."

She felt her cheeks go hot under his gaze. "W-well…"

Duncan crept closer. Courtney gulped. "May-maybe we should go…"

The look in his eyes made her palms clammy. Suddenly, she was sixteen again and standing outside the Gopher cabin with Duncan. Her heart accelerated.

"Look, Duncan…" He inched nearer, eyes locked onto hers. "How about we just… catch up?"

He was merely millimeters away. Courtney's voice shook. "Duncan… Let's just… talk…"

"Did you miss me?" Duncan whispered, his hot breath pressing on Courtney's skin.

"Uhh..." Her mouth was too dry to speak. She swallowed hard. "I-I guess, a bit…"

Duncan's mouth turned to a smug smile. "Is that the best you can manage?"

"Okay, fine. I missed you. So what…?"

Quickly, he pressed his lips against hers. Courtney's eyes widened with shock, but a feeling of bliss soon overcame it. Her lids heaved with pleasure, eventually shutting. Her arms found his neck, where she wrapped them sweetly. Duncan pressed closer, and Courtney accepted the sudden warmth. He tasted like hot chocolate.

After a moment, they pulled apart. Duncan smiled, his lips just barely brushing hers.

He glanced outside, and then looked back at Courtney. "It's stopped snowing." He whispered.

She looked past him, out the living room window. Occasional snowflakes fell, giving the scene an oddly romantic charm.

Courtney locked eyes with Duncan. A smile made its way to her lips as she said, "I don't think it matters."

And she kissed him again.

* * *

**I think that was cute. Not all will be quite as fluffy, the genre will definitely vary. But Duncan/Courtney all the way!**


	2. Understanding

**TDI/TDA never happened. Like I said, all stories are going to be different. This one's long. So freaking long. I didn't think I could write something this long. But it kind of just… flowed into existence? Something like that.**

**

* * *

**

Courtney sighed and shook her head, letting her dark hair spill over her shoulders. "No. No. No."

The young man beside her smirked with undying confidence. "Yes."

"_No_."

"Yes. The more you deny it, the more I don't believe you."

She frowned with slight annoyance. "I don't, okay? I don't like you."

Duncan looked down at her, disbelieving every word. "Right."

Courtney rolled her eyes and quickened her pace as they traveled down the dark city sidewalk. "Can we not discuss this anymore? Let's just get to Geoff's as soon as possible and get this stupid party over with."

"Sure." He said with a knowing smile. "But this conversation isn't finished."

She glared, but didn't respond After all, it was pointless. The boy was impossible to reason with.

They were heading to one of Geoff's many infamous parties, to Courtney's reluctance. The shadowy city was somewhat alarming, and it made her uncomfortable. Still, she wasn't going to let _him _know that. Her pride was one of the things she valued most.

"Next time, we're taking a taxi." She stated firmly.

"Scared?" Duncan asked. It was a rhetorical question, and it was dead-on.

"No." Courtney huffed, acting as though her defensive tone was merely caused by the displeasure that he'd even suggested the idea. "I just… don't like the city at night. That's all." The reason completely contradicted her denial, and Duncan picked up on it immediately.

"Because you're scared." He said matter-of-factly.

She scoffed, as if the suggestion was ridiculous. "Me? Scared? I don't _get _scared, Duncan. I'm perfectly capable of walking down a city sidewalk in the middle of the night. No matter how revolting the conditions." She stopped and inspected the bottom of her shoe, which had a wad of bright pink gum stuck to it. Courtney's nose tilted back with disgust as she scraped her heel along the ground, trying to rid herself of the sticky matter.

Once she'd succeeded, they continued. Courtney looked to Duncan, for just a moment before he could catch her staring. Over the past weeks, her sureness about him had melted away, leaving her with a confused feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Before, she couldn't even think about liking Duncan without gagging. The thought was so far-fetched that she couldn't even grasp the concept. Her, and _him_? Together? Yeah, _right_. It was a ridiculous thought! And yet, she would find herself hanging onto his words, getting excited when he was near, and unintentionally blushing from his comments. The whole situation was confusing. Did she really like him, or was it just something else?

But, it was stupid. She had standards. _High _standards. Standards that Duncan wouldn't be able to meet, no matter how hard he tried. It was a harsh method of judgment, but it was hers. She needed to be with someone that could promise a future, and that was an important quality that he lacked. She doubted Duncan had a plan for his future. And even if he did, it most likely involved things that she didn't want to be a part of.

And yet, though her head said no, her heart didn't quite agree. It wasn't thinking radically, but its yearning had spread to the rest of her. Her opinion wasn't as definite as it had been before, before things slowly began to change. What she wanted and what she needed had merged, leaving her vision hazy.

Courtney shivered. The cool spring air was seeping through her thin jacket, and Goosebumps were rising along her arms as she crossed them. She hugged her waist.

"See? You're scared." Duncan said, misinterpreting her actions, though his statement was true regardless. Courtney shook her head stubbornly, like a little child.

"I told you, I'm not scared. It's just really cold out here, that's all." She squeezed her hands into fists and clenched her teeth to prevent the shivering.

"How can you say that?" Duncan said, gesturing to the night sky with a wave of his arm. "It's not even below freezing."

Courtney blew out, and inspected her visible breath. "I'd beg to differ." She muttered. Duncan shrugged, and let the debate drop.

As they entered a more urban part of the city, Courtney found her defenses heighten. She glanced around nervously. Paranoid, that's what she was being. Courtney mentally scolded herself and tried to shake the feeling, but to no avail. Her stomach twisted into knots, and her ears pricked at every sound. She shivered again, but not from the cold. Gripping her purse protectively, she inched along the sidewalk with small steps.

"Courtney?" Duncan asked, looking concerned.

"Hm? What?" Courtney glanced up and met his eyes for a moment, before turning away and guardedly looking over their surroundings. Graffiti-covered walls and fences, barred windows and doors, more broken street lights that not, and unkempt sidewalks made for an eerie, threatening scene that made Courtney uneasy. It was as though something could jump out of the shadows at any moment. Duncan noticed this, to her dismay.

"Courtney? You okay?" His voice startled Courtney, and she turned to him with wide eyes.

"Yes… no. Not entirely. This is kind of freaking me out. I'm just… not used to being in this part of the city at night. That's all." She admitted feebly. Courtney expected Duncan to mock at her, or flaunt the fact that he'd been right. But instead, he smiled.

"Don't worry, it'll be fine." It was a small reassurance, but it made her feel somewhat better nonetheless.

They continued along, until Courtney heard whispering. She motioned for Duncan to stop, and listened. As soon as she did, the whispering stopped. Courtney stood, frowning and waiting.

"There's nothing there. Let's go." Duncan said and started to walk. Courtney was about to do the same, when she was tugged back into an alley with a yelp.

She felt an arm slither around her neck, and her purse being yanked off her shoulder. Panic flushed through her.

"Courtney?" Duncan's voice echoed. She tried to respond, but she could barely choke out a word. Courtney heard the clap of footsteps, and managed to open her eyes.

She couldn't see the figures around her clearly, but she knew there were three of them. One had her in a headlock, while one rifled through her purse and the third stood at attention. Her throat scratched as she tried to scream, but that only made the man's hold on her tighten.

Suddenly, Duncan came around the corner, and stopped dead in his tracks. Anger washed over his face as he took in the scene. But before he could do anything, the third figured knocked his fist against his face. Duncan turned back with a bloody lip, and Courtney couldn't suppress a sob.

Duncan launched a punch at the man's stomach, gaining an advantage as he bent over in pain. He grabbed his shirt and threw him to the ground forcefully. The man that had been looking through Courtney's purse looked up and abandoned the task.

A flurry of punches and kicks followed. Blood splattered onto the sidewalk. Courtney was sickened at the sight as tears streamed down her face. Finally, the man who held her spoke.

"Alright!" He barked, the mere sound of his raspy voice sent shivers down Courtney's spine. The three men stopped their fighting and looked over. Courtney felt Duncan's gaze meet hers, and the look that his eyes carried burrowed into her. Panic flooded his features.

"Leave now and we won't have a problem." The man said, giving Duncan an opportunity to save himself. Courtney wanted to tell him what she knew, what she could feel pressed against her side. The cold metal was a warning against her skin.

But instead of jumping on the chance to escape, Duncan's eyes flicked from Courtney to the man speaking, anger burning in them. "No." He said with a shaking tone. "Let her go."

The man spat to his right side. Courtney could feel his arms squeezing around her frame. His touch caused her to swell with revulsion. Sobs escaped from her throat painfully.

"And why should I do that?" The question was direction towards Duncan, but was whispered delicately in Courtney's ear. She twisted and wrestled, but it was no use. The man's grip was firm. "I think she'd make a cute plaything, don't you?"

The comment enraged Duncan, and he stepped forward, eyes flashing. But just as he did, the man pulled his arm from Courtney's side. She instantly knew what he was going to do. His arm loosened from around her neck just enough for her to shriek a warning.

"Duncan!"

It was too late.

* * *

Courtney was crying.

She'd been doing that quite a bit lately. No matter what she would be doing to get her mind off of it, the realization would hit her hard, and she'd break into tears. There were moments when she'd forget. Just for a split second, when it wouldn't be on her mind. And then she'd remember, and the weight of it would crash down on her.

But above being sad, she was angry. Angry that she –_they_– had been victims, that they'd been defenseless. That it could've been avoided, had they taken a car, if they'd taken a different route… Things could have been different. Things could have been alright.

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Courtney set the book that she'd been trying to read on the arm of the chair and stood. She crossed her arms and bit her lower lip softly. Crouching down by the hospital bed, she rested her chin on her open palm and ran her fingers lightly over the smooth sheets.

Courtney watched as his chest moved up and down slowly with each strained breath. She stayed in that position for a while, as she'd done every day for the past week. It'd become part of her routine.

"Talking to him might help," said a voice from behind. Turning around, Courtney saw a young nurse with a pitying smile and sympathetic eyes.

Standing, Courtney blinked several times before putting her confusion in question form. "What do you mean?"

The nurse shrugged. "Talking to patients in a coma can help them to regain full consciousness. And I think it might help _you_, as well." With that, the nurse left.

Considering this, Courtney turned back around. She eyed the wound on his side. The sight of the bandages made Courtney wince, but she did her best to ignore them.

In a cautious whisper, Courtney murmured his name. "Duncan?"

He didn't respond, as she'd predicated, but the mere sound of his name –even from her own mouth– made her eyes water with tears. She choked them back.

"I don't know if you can hear me, but…" Courtney tried to compose herself enough to continue. "I want to say… thank you."

Even though, once again, there was no response, she felt as though he'd heard her. The thought sent relief through her. Courtney smiled a little and continued. "For not leaving. And… for everything. Thank you."

She made herself comfortable and sat on the edge of the bed. "I've been coming here every day after school. Your mom stays here during the day, and I stay during the evening. It's a pretty good system."

Courtney felt herself begin to rant. She was good at ranting. "Yeah, well, everyone at school misses you. Well, not _everyone_. The teachers are pretty happy that you're not in school." She giggled a little. "Geoff's been stopping by almost everyday. He even bought you a bouquet of flowers." Courtney glanced at the gigantic Get-Well bouquet in the corner of the room and smiled again. "I didn't really think you'd want flowers. I figured it'd mess with your image.

"But anyway, not much has happened at school. You just missed a test and a couple of notes. You can just copy mine, if you can't get out of doing the unit altogether." Courtney hugged her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth softly. "So, the doctors say you're doing pretty well, health-wise. Except for the coma. They don't… they don't really know when you'll wake up." She tried to hold back newly resurfaced tears. In an attempt to sound more cheerful, she raised her voice an octave.

"But you could wake up any day now. We just don't know _which_ day. Uh," Courtney cleared her throat and changed the subject. "The food here isn't too bad. I don't know why hospitals get such a bad reputation for their food. Though I guess what I was getting was from the cafeteria, not what the patients are supposed to eat. I've seen some of the trays of food. Nothing looked all too appetizing."

Leaning closer, Courtney moved her mouth near his ear. Hope pulsed through her. Maybe… maybe he'd wake up. "Can you hear me?" She whispered. There was no response. She tried again, voice rattling. "Duncan, can you hear me? Are you there?"

When he remained silent, Courtney felt tears trickle down her cheeks. She stepped back, and collapsed in the chair. It'd been a stupid attempt, and not her first. Courtney had clung onto the hope that he'd wake up at the sound of her voice, like in a movie, with all of her might. But not once had he woken, and her faith was slowly diminishing. How much longer would he be like this? It was foolish to think that by simply whispering in his ear, he would suddenly come back to full consciousness. Duncan could be out for weeks, maybe longer, and the knowledge was heavy on Courtney shoulders.

Still, she refused to give up so easily. He would wake up. He would. She _knew _it.

Courtney glanced up at the large white clock ticking away on the wall. It was past ten, and she really needed to leave. Standing, she gathered her things and hooked her bag over her shoulder. Courtney glanced down at Duncan, and her heart twitched. Slowly, she bent over and said, "Good-bye."

She lightly traced her fingers over his hand, and sighed. Then, cautiously, she leaned closer and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. The action sent jolts through her body. Courtney quickly withdrew. A melancholy smile touched her lips as she thought of what smart-ass remark Duncan would have come up at that moment, had he been awake.

_Wake up._

* * *

"You know, you don't have to go _every day_, sweetie." Courtney's mother said with a frown as she pulled up to drop Courtney off at the hospital. She stroked her daughter's cheek tenderly. "Really, why don't you go out with Bridgette tonight? Have some fun. Stop worrying so much and-"

"No." Courtney grabbed her bag and clenched it in her closed hands. "I have to, mom. If it wasn't for him then…" She breathed in deeply. "I have to. Besides, I don't mind."

With that as the final word, Courtney slipped from the car and slammed the door behind her. She headed over to the entrance and stepped through the hospital doors, grateful for the sudden warmth. After maneuvering through the large building, she finally found the room where Duncan was staying, and knocked lightly on the open door.

Duncan's mother looked up from her knitting and smiled. "Oh, good, Courtney dear. I'll just pack up my things and…" The woman gathered her few belongings that she'd brought with her and stood from the chair. "The doctors say he's making progress, with the wound and all. Even though, well…" He hasn't woken yet. The words were left unspoken, but fully understood.

After words were exchanged between the two women, Duncan's mother finally left, and Courtney took on her shift. She set her things by the bed and smiled. "Hey, Duncan."

An hour passed by before Courtney felt herself becoming hungry. She set down her book and ransacked her bag for money. After successfully finding a crumpled ten dollar bill, she made her way downstairs to the cafeteria for dinner. The cafeteria was bustling with people. Nurses, patients, and visitors occupied every available seat. Several minutes passed before she could find a seat. Courtney set her tray down and poked at her salad. The lettuce was slightly limp, but otherwise, it didn't look too bad.

When she had finished, Courtney dropped her tray off and headed to the elevator. It amazed her that she was getting to know the hospital so well. She could map out at least ten different routes to Duncan's room. The hospital, which had once felt cold and foreign, was quickly becoming like a second home to her, considering how much time she spent there. Courtney knew it inside and out.

In a few minutes, she had reached the room. She was so startled by what she saw that she had to lean on the wall for support. Her breath caught and her insides flooded with warmth.

Duncan was awake. A doctor and several nurses crowded the room, and from what Courtney could tell from her spot outside, they were explaining his condition to him. Duncan nodded and occasionally ran his fingers through his hair with astonishment. His icy blue eyes had yet to find her. It was like a weight had been lifted, seeing him interact. She stepped forward to enter the room with a grin, but stopped. It was probably better to wait.

Slipping out of the hospital as quickly as she could, Courtney clutched her phone and dialed as quickly as she could. It rang three times before Duncan's mother picked up. Upon hearing the good news, the woman cried happy tears. Courtney felt herself smiling as she hung up the phone and retreated back inside.

She reached the hospital room once again, only to find Duncan rifling through her bag. Stepping into the room, she exposed herself.

"Hey."

Duncan's head shot up, and a surprised expression overcame his features. Courtney felt her lower lip trembled as their eyes locked onto one another. She had been anticipating the moment for over a week, but she still wasn't ready for the tidal wave of emotions. Her shoulders shook, and rushed over to his side as tears poured over her cheeks. Courtney wrapped her arms around Duncan, sobbing. The action startled him at first, but he quickly returned the embrace.

"Hey, it's okay." He murmured. The sound of his voice only made her cry harder.

Once Courtney's tears had subsided, at least a little bit, she pulled away and tried to find her voice. "I was just so scared, Duncan. I thought, I mean, I thought that… maybe… I- I don't know." She stuttered and wiped her wet cheeks. Duncan smiled solemnly and blew out a sigh.

"Look, I'm not really good with stuff like this. You know, being sympathetic and whatever, but…" He winced and tried to organize his thoughts before speaking again. "You're okay, I'm… well, better than I could have been, I guess. We got off lucky…" He frowned, and looked at Courtney for an answer. "What happened? After I blacked out, I mean."

Courtney studied her shaking hands. "Well, after that man, uh… shot you… they got pretty scared and took off. I guess they figured that someone heard the gunshot, they'd be in trouble. Luckily someone had and called the police. Good thing, too. You were losing… a lot of blood." She shifted and sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor.

"Hey." Duncan nicked Courtney's chin so she looked at him. "Don't sweat it. I'm okay now." His mouth curved into a sly smile that made Courtney's heart rate increase. "Especially since you're here. Have you come a lot?"

Courtney's eyes widened slightly. She didn't want him to know how much she had been visiting. "Well, you know… once in a while, when I can…"

Duncan looked amused. "Really? One of the nurses said you'd been here every day."

A slight blush raised on Courtney's cheeks. She tried to shrug it off. "Yeah, well. I felt like I had to, okay? It's _my_ fault you're in here."

The smile vanished from his face as Duncan fixed Courtney with a serious look. "It's _not_ your fault. It's those jackasses' faults. Now, if you'd pressed a gun to my head and pulled the trigger –which you've been close to doing on several occasions, considering that temper of yours– then I'd be more than happy to put all of the blame on you."

"I do _not_ have a temper." Courtney growled. Realizing she'd just proved his point, she repeated her claim with a sweeter voice. "I don't have a temper, Duncan. I don't."

He smirked and shrugged his shoulder. "Whatever you say." Duncan glanced down at his wounded side. "I got a pretty good scab, don't you think?"

Following Duncan's gaze, Courtney sighed. "I'd call a bullet wound bigger than a scab, Duncan." Moving closer to inspect it, she asked, "Does it hurt?"

"No." She brushed her fingers along the bandaged area, and Duncan let out a shriek of pain that made Courtney jump back. "Ahh!"

"Oh my gosh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" She stopped apologizing when she realized Duncan was laughing. She scowled. "Duncan! Don't _do _that! You scared me!"

"That was the idea." He said through snickers. When Courtney's angry expression didn't lift, he rolled his eyes and explained. "Hey, I have a _week's_ worth to make up for."

Courtney sighed. "I would have thought that after being in a coma for over a week would have actually humbled you. I suppose I was wrong."

Duncan continued to smile. "Yep."

His smug expression riled Courtney. She tilted her head to the right sweetly and cooed, "I guess you're right… Dunchkin-munchkin."

The once bright smile disappeared within the blink of an eye. It was replaced with one of horror and revulsion. "Where in the _hell_ did you hear that?"

The adorable smile on Courtney's face never faltered. "Your mom and I often sit here and talk. I never knew you use to have ducky footie pajamas."

Duncan clamped his hand over his ears, trying to zone Courtney out. "Shut it!"

Satisfied, Courtney allowed herself to laugh as Duncan crossed his arms over his chest, fuming. "Are you done?" He asked when Courtney wiped her tearing eyes.

"Mm-hm." She said, sighing happily. In the few minutes she'd spent talking with Duncan, her spirits had lifted noticeably. At his expense, sure, but it had all the same. "So, I called your mom-"

"What else did she tell you about me?" Duncan said with groan.

"Nothing. I was trying to tell you that she'll be here in about half an hour." She glanced up at the clock on the wall. "And… I should probably go."

The disappointment on Duncan's face was so obvious that it nearly startled Courtney. He quickly wiped the look off. "'Kay."

Trying not to smile, because truthfully she was pleased that he didn't want her to leave, Courtney hooked her bag over one shoulder. "What? Do you not want me to?"

"No, it's just that I don't want to be sitting alone for the next half-hour. Leave, if you want to."

Courtney frowned at his answer and continued to gather her things. With a quick wave, she walked towards the closed door. Duncan's voice stopped her.

"But, you know, it's not like you _have _to leave. It's cool if you stay." With a grin that she immediately covered with a blank expression, Courtney turned and let her bag drop to the floor. She was about to take a seat in the chair against the wall, but the sight of Duncan shifting to the right made her freeze. With a small smile, he brushed his hand over the sliver of space beside him on the bed. Courtney understood his suggestion immediately.

"No, thank you." She refused. Duncan persisted.

"Come. Lie down. You would refuse a patient his desires, would you?" He smiled innocently, but Courtney didn't buy it.

"Actually, I would." She sneered flatly.

"C'mon. Please?" Duncan's pout reached Courtney, and her stomach fluttered with butterflies. She found herself _wanting_ to lie next to him. Still, she kept her expression monotone while reluctantly (or so she hoped she was coming across) slipping beside him. A smile stretched across his face as their shoulders rubbed against one another. "There you go."

Courtney felt her face get hot, and it didn't go unnoticed. "Blushing, are we?" Duncan said in a mocking tone.

"Shut up." She growled in undertone. Trying to change the topic, she gestured to the bouquet in the corner of the room. "Those are from Geoff."

Following her gaze, he took in the overbearing bouquet of orange, pink, blue, and green flowers. "That's, uh… colorful. And pretty big. Wow." His eyes were wide, as though he was lying. Courtney half-smiled and focused on her hands. "So, every day, huh?"

Ignoring the little knowing smile on his lips, Courtney replied, as dryly as possible, "Yes. Every day. Is it really that big of a deal?"

Either Duncan had honestly ceased to pick up on the lack of energy in her voice, or he was just as disbelieving as Courtney should have expected. As usual, he twisted her meaning so that it fit his implications perfectly. "No, but you're getting defensive as if it were. I was simply wondering, but you seem to be the one making a big deal of it. Why, it sounds as though you have something to tell me."

Courtney cursed to herself. Damn her defensive barriers. They acted on impulse, but never seemed useful around Duncan. They always wavered under his reasoning. Damn his unnatural reasoning skills, too.

Trying to weasel her way out of the accusation, Courtney gathered a response that would hopefully serve well. "No, there's nothing I want to tell you, Duncan. I was only confused as to why you kept bringing up the subject. I didn't think it was a big deal that I visited often, but you had brought it up twice. It sounds as though you have something that you want to tell _me_." Pleased, Courtney leaned back against the plastic headboard with an innocent smile.

"So you were counting?" He pointed out. Courtney cursed herself for the second time for having proved her awareness during their conversation. Duncan, no doubt, would bring it up. "I hadn't realized that I'd already asked. But I guessed you did. Been paying close attention?" And she'd been right. "But whatever. I think it's cute that you sit and read by my bed every evening."

Courtney grumbled to herself and folded her arms. "Yeah, it's _adorable_." She paused, allowing herself to regroup her thoughts. "Duncan, can I ask you a question?"

He looked at her with mild surprise, but shrugged. "Uh, yeah, go ahead."

Courtney bit her tongue, and thought for a moment, before asking, "Why didn't you leave? I mean, that man said he'd let you go… you could've called the police or…" She trailed off, unsure of how to better explain herself.

Duncan shifted, then straitened and looked Courtney in the eye. "Look, I may come off as a jerk sometimes, but, uh," he ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat several times. "But, it's not like I don't care. I don't think I _could_ have left. I was pretty pissed off at those guys. And I _swear_, if I come across them again… I won't hesitate to break their necks."

Though she was a little disturbed by the threat –because she had no doubt that Duncan would follow through on it– she couldn't help but smile. Oddly, she liked the idea of Duncan being protective. "Oh, yeah?" Courtney said, quirking an eyebrow coyly.

"Yeah." He grinned and leaned his arm on her shoulder. "Is that a problem?"

She focused on his wound. "No, as long as it isn't any time soon. Did the doctor give you any pain medication or anything?"

Duncan's smirk widened. "Someone sure seems to care a lot."

Courtney opened her mouth, and then shut it. She grumbled a response, "I was just asking."

His smile faltered, and he seemed to grow somewhat serious. "Okay, now I get to ask you a question."

"Oh, really?" Courtney raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because you got to ask me one." Duncan paused for a moment. "But you have to be completely and totally honest, since I was. Got it?"

Suspicion pricked at Courtney's senses. Her eyes narrowed with distrust. "Alright." She said cautiously, as if she was afraid of the question, which was entirely possible.

Her answer pleased Duncan. "Sweet. Now," A smile tugged on the corners of his lips, not entirely formed, but there all the same. "Do you like me?"

A warm shot of blood flushed on Courtney face. She'd had the feeling that he'd ask her something of the sort, but the direct question made her uneasy. How could she _possibly_ respond? To make matters worse, it didn't _matter _whether she answered or not; Duncan had probably gotten his answer from the blush stained across her cheeks.

"I'm not answering that." Courtney struggled to keep her voice calm. She averted her gaze from Duncan's.

"And why is that?" He said, and though she could not see it, Courtney knew he was smiling. She could hear it in his voice.

Crossing her arms huffily, Courtney groaned. "Don't play stupid, you know why." She gritted her teeth.

"Yeah, you're right." Duncan chuckled. "I do know. It's because you _do _like me and you don't want to admit it."

Courtney mentally face-palmed herself. Of _course _he'd respond with something of the sort. "No." She growled. "That's not why."

Courtney expected Duncan twist her words, but instead, he sighed. "You can never make this easy for me, can you? I mean, I nearly friggin' _die_, and you can't even admit that you like me. I know you do, _everyone _knows you do… except for maybe you. Or maybe you just don't want to accept it. Either way, you sure make it hard."

His words shocked Courtney. Duncan actually sounded… sincere. Like it truly was difficult for him. She fidgeted for a couple of moments, unsure of how to respond. Duncan stared at the wall. They were quiet.

Finally, Courtney found her voice. "Well, you don't make it any easier." She mumbled.

Duncan glanced at her. "What do you mean? I've given you more than enough chances."

"And why don't I jump to take them?" Courtney asked, but didn't wait for a response. "Because I'm not just going to give in that easily; let you get all smug. I have pride, Duncan. Besides, I'm not even sure if…" She trailed off.

"You're not sure of what?" Duncan inquired, pressing for an answer.

"I'm not even all that sure of how I feel." Courtney blinked several times and wrapped her arms around her waist, somewhat embarrassed by her confession. "I just don't know."

Once again, Duncan surprised her. She was expecting him to say something to contradict her claim, or maybe he'd be slightly disappointed. But she didn't expect to hear what she did.

"Yeah, I felt the same way."

Courtney stiffened, confused, and turned to him. "Huh?"

He gave a wry half-smile. "Don't get too conceited. I hated you to begin with. Then I hated you a bit more, then I hated you a _lot_. Then, I guess, somewhere along the way… I started to like you. Then I had no idea how I felt, like you now."

Listening closely, Courtney nodded once. "Okay…" She was curious as to when his opinion changed, but didn't want to ask. Luckily, she didn't have to.

"So I thought about it." Courtney was about to interrupt to tell him that she didn't need to be informed of his discovery, but she didn't get the chance. "Well, you're bossy, uptight and annoying. And you _never _loosen up. Basically my opposite." She scowled, and Duncan responded with an innocent shrug. "But I like you in spite of that."

Courtney shifted again, uncomfortable. "And?"

"That's it." Duncan said nonchalantly. She frowned.

Shaking her head, Courtney dismissed his ease. It wasn't that simple. "Well, I can't just do that. Honestly, how can you be so _sure_? How can you _know_?"

Duncan didn't respond. In a short second, Courtney was afraid that she'd hurt him with the comment. But when he turned to her with a tiny smile, she wasn't sure. He moved closer, slipping his arm from under the sheets to cup her chin in his hand. Courtney's heart thumped loudly. And again, she couldn't find her voice.

For a moment, neither teen moved. But, then, his lips melted into hers. Courtney shouldn't have been startled –she'd seen it coming– but she was still taken aback. Courtney's eyelashes fluttered. He felt… so warm.

Eyelids shutting, she leaned into the feeling, allowing herself to be taken in. Duncan's hand slowly moved to the back of her neck. Her mind was hazy. Courtney felt as though she was floating.

When Duncan did pull back, she had to take a moment to catch herself. His hand ran through her hair.

"That's how I know." He murmured onto her skin. It was several seconds before Courtney realized her eyes were still closed.

Opening them, she found herself staring into cool blue eyes. Her breathing was deep. A calm, accepting smile cracked on her lips.

Fine. She liked him.

Maybe it was wrong, or stupid… or entirely irrational, but it didn't matter. It was _true_. And thus, nothing else was important.

In one swift motion, Courtney grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him close, and shut her eyes.

Duncan's arms found her waist and didn't hesitate to draw her closer. He pushed her against the headboard, taking over.

"_Duncan_? Dun-chkin!"

The two startled at the sound. Courtney reeled back and fumbled off the bed in a disoriented manner just as the door swung open.

"Duncan!" A woman with shoulder-length blond hair rushed in and choked Duncan in a hug.

"Hey, mom." He wheezed, having difficulty speaking with his mother's arms wrapped around his neck. "Still have great timing, I see."

"Ohh! My little munchkin!" She cradled his head, rocking back and forth as though he were a little child. Courtney giggled.

"_Mom_." Duncan tried to shrug her off, but the woman wouldn't budge. "Mom! I'm not going anywhere."

She pulled back, with obvious reluctance, and smiled. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I raced over here when Courtney called." Duncan's mother turned to acknowledge Courtney. She returned the smile and nodded her head.

Biting her lower lip, Courtney leaned over and swept her bag off of the floor and hooked it over her shoulder. She straightened and walked to the door.

"I should go." Duncan glanced up from his mother, smile fading at her words. "I see you… later."

"Alright, dear." His mother nodded. She paused, and then looked at Duncan with an urging expression.

It took a minute for Duncan to pick up on his mother's look. "See you, Courtney."

"Maybe we can get you out of here for dinner tomorrow night, Duncan." The woman clapped her hands together. "And you'll have to join us, Courtney."

"Sure." She agreed sweetly. "Bye."

Duncan's mother returned to smothering him, but through the embrace, he flashed Courtney a grin. She knew what it meant.

Turned quickly on her heel, Courtney skirted her way through the building, trying to fully understand what had happened. But no matter how many times she turned the thought over in her mind, she still couldn't figure it out. It didn't make any sense.

Wait- scratch that.

It _did _make sense.

Courtney let loose a wild laugh and threw up her hands recklessly. Of _course_ it made sense!

_Duncan and me. Me and Duncan._ She thought to herself, giggling.

It made more sense than anything else she'd ever heard.

Her, and him. Them. Together…

She liked the sound of that.

* * *

**Holy crap, I love this one. Seriously, if this story was alive, I'd marry it. Hope you like it too! The ending's kind of… interesting… I guess… I don't know how I feel about it right now. Hmm.**

**Thank you so much for reviewing! Seventeen reviews! Omigosh! I didn't think it'd be THAT popular. It's kind of a confidence-booster to read things like 'This is so awesome! Keep writing! I love it!' So, thanks (:**

**Oh, one last thing. Truthfully, if you have any ideas for a DXC one-shot, or just a little aspect, I'd be so thankful if you'd tell me. I can't guarantee that I'll use every idea, but I'll see what I can do.**


	3. Supporting

**Sorry, but this one's not light. Just telling you now so if you hate stories like this then… well, you won't like this. I have this weird quirk in which I cannot let my characters be perfectly happy and flawless. They have to have some sort of problem, something to remind me that they're supposed to be **_**human beings**_**, not these faultless mannequins.**

**I'm actually nervous about this chapter. I'm not sure if it's any good. I mean, I edited and revised it like a freak, over and over until my brain hurt, but even still. Maybe it's **_**because**_** I edited it so much. Eh, I just don't know.**

**

* * *

**

When we campers were called for a 'little surprise' in the Mess Hall, no one was excited.

It was almost uniform. When Chris informed us that he had something planned, we knew instantly that it wouldn't be something to look forward to. We had learned from experience that the only time Chris associated with us was when he had the chance to watch us suffer. So naturally, we were hesitant to enter the room.

But, we were surprised.

"Campers!" Chris cheered, smile wide. "You guys have been away from home for a few weeks now, and the producers were thinking you might be getting a little depressed. And depressed contestants do _not _make for good television!"

He stepped back to reveal a large television set being adjusted by several interns at the front of the room. On one of the tables in the middle of the room, which had been cleared from dinner hours earlier, were two stacks of CD cases. We looked to one another with confusion.

"So!" Continued Chris, "Here's the deal: We got your friends and family to make videos from home for you guys to watch. Now," He pointed to the benches. "Sit and prepare for some serious butt-kissing. There are a_ lot _of your friends who would kill for a cut of that hundred grand."

* * *

"I love you too, Mama!"

I rolled my eyes. DJ was on his knees, hands clamped together, chin trembling as the video came to a close. Seeing my parole officer and hearing the less than sweet things my father had to say only reminded me of what I had to return to after the show ended. Anyone in my position would have settled into a particularly foul mood.

Chris clicked a button on the DVD player and pulled out DJ's video from home, replacing it with another. "Courtney!"

As the video started, I glanced over to said girl. She looked at the screen with unease, I noticed, but thought little of it.

"Hey, Court."

I turned to look back at the video. A young man with clear hazel eyes and short brown hair sat in front of the lens. His smile seemed fake to me, possibly forced, but I wasn't sure. He continued.

"I guess you forgot to tell me you were trying out for this show, huh? But whatever. I've been watching every episode… you're doing well. We all miss you here, especially me. This reality show is only for a couple weeks, right?" The older teen paused for a moment, then sighed and continued.

"So, nothing's really new. Same old, really. I was wondering if–" He was cut off by the person operating the video camera. They conversed for a moment, until he nodded and continued speaking into the lens. "'Kay, I have to wrap this up. Just… I'll see you soon enough. Oh, and one thing?" Here, his smile twitched. "Watch out for that Duncan guy. I don't… uh,"

I was startled at the sound of my name. I frowned. What did this guy have against me?

"Anyway, bye." He leaned closer to the lens, looking nearly hopeful, expectant. "Love you."

And the screen went blank.

It took me several seconds to realize he was holding my breath. Releasing it didn't expel any tension.

She had a boyfriend.

A boyfriend.

A boyfriend?

…A damned _boyfriend_!

My heart lurched.

Disappointed couldn't describe how I was feeling. I was beyond that. Here I was, falling for her, when all of a sudden, I had no chance. I'd never been the type to focus all of my intentions on one girl. At least, not for very long. But there was something about Courtney that had grabbed my attention. She wasn't like other girls. Ones that were good for a couple of days, then easily forgotten. She was the kind of girl I didn't mind being hung up over, though it poked at my pride. I thought I'd been so close to getting her to crack, getting her to loosen up.

People can surprise you, I guess.

She had a… a _boyfriend_ –the word sounded bitter in my head– whom, apparently, she did not inform anyone else about.

"Courtney," Bridgette mumbled, elbowing her friend softly. "I didn't know you were going out with someone. Why didn't you tell us?"

I was aware of several sets of eyes on me, all of which I chose to ignore. My dark mood had blackened. Scorched.

"Yeah. I guess I forgot to." Courtney's voice was quiet. She stood and glanced around briefly, before heading towards the door. "I think… I think I'm going to sit outside for a while."

Grasping an opportunity, I slipped from my fellow contestants and followed her out the door. This wasn't going unexplained.

It was nighttime, and several thousand stars twinkled in the distance. Courtney was heading towards the dock, and I raced up behind her.

"Hey." I said, laying a hand on her shoulder. Courtney jumped and whirled around. Her eyes widened.

"Hi, Duncan. You startled me." She glanced at my hand, which still rested on her shoulder, and I quickly withdrew. "Did you, uh, want something?"

I rolled my eyes. The answer was obvious. "What do you think?"

Courtney shrugged and continued walking. Once she reached the end of the dock, she slowly lowered herself down and pulled her knees to her chest. Still wanting an answer, I settled beside her.

"How come you never mentioned him?" I asked calmly, trying to keep cool, as if I wasn't really bothered. I didn't want to come off as though I cared, even though I did. A bit more than I was willing to admit.

It just didn't make any sense. My objective had been clear enough, hadn't it? I'd made more than enough –rather _strong_– advances towards her. Yeah, she'd refused, naturally. But this was the chase. This was how it would start. She's resist, I'd persist. It was simple logic, really. I'd set my goal, found my aim. And like hell I wouldn't give up until I'd succeeded. But my efforts proved useless. Courtney had a boyfriend. Boyfriend.

No matter how hard I tried, the word wouldn't stick.

She'd been leading me on, maybe not intentionally, but she had. A simple 'I have a boyfriend' would have been enough to make me back off. That much, if anything, was evident. Hence, my confusion.

Her response was a simple shrug of her shoulders and a quiet, "I don't know." Her attention, as I could tell, was focused elsewhere.

We sat in silence for a span of time, the only sound coming from the rippling waves of the lake. The more I thought about it, the more suspicious it all became. Courtney hadn't even told _Bridgette_, her best friend on the island, of all people. Didn't girls tell each other everything? And yet, not a word. To _anybody_. It just didn't add up.

Amid my thoughts, Courtney asked a question that caught me off guard.

"Duncan?" She murmured without looking at me. "Do you think… love makes people do strange things?"

An owl hooted off in the distance. I turned to her and frowned. "What do you mean?" I asked skeptically, as though it was a trick question.

She leaned over and dipped her finger into the lake. Caressing the surface softly, she narrowed her thought. "I don't know, I was just wondering… Do you think that love makes people do things, say things… makes them believe things… that they shouldn't?"

The question came across somewhat hard for me to grasp. "I really don't understand what you mean."

She shook her head slowly. "It's not really that important. It's just…" Courtney's gaze drifted across the cool lake. "I wonder if people do the things they do while they're in love _because_ they're in love, or… because of something else entirely."

Even after several attempts, I still failed to comprehend her insight. "You've lost me."

"I don't think it's love." It was as if she hadn't even heard me. "Maybe at first, but then it alters. I think it's a drive of some sort. A kind of… need. But, _what's_ the drive?"

Watching her intently, I made no effort to extract an explanation.

"When you love someone, it's selfish. Love is selfish. You can learn to give in love, but you'll never learn to _want _to. And sometimes, you cross that line between selfishness and… and possessiveness. It's a kind of sickness, I think."

Then, she smiled. It was wry, lacking any sense of warmth. "That's the irony. You protect because you love. But how can you…" The sentence faded away, along with any trace of her smile.

"Love is blind. So unbelievably blind, you can't even imagine what it makes you do." Courtney breathed in deeply. Her voice shivered. "It makes you hear what you want to hear. It makes you think everything's all right, when it isn't. It never is."

She swallowed hard and focused on her knees. I didn't know what I could say. I didn't understand what she was talking about, what possessed her to talk so intimately.

"But you don't care. So long as you're blind, what you know is happening never is. It's this world you get to paint as your own. You come up with reasons, _excuses_ for him. Because he loves me, that's what you say. It's… _love_." Her voice withered away in the soft wind.

For what felt like an eternity, we said nothing. Courtney was caught up in her own world. My mind was clouded with confusion.

"Courtney?" I whispered, moving closer. I nudged her shoulder, seizing her attention. Courtney's eyes lifted and met mine. They shone in the faint moonlight.

I didn't know enough to ask a proper question, so instead I said, "Tell me."

Her gaze wavered. "Tell you what?" She made to leave, but I grabbed her arm quickly. Courtney teetered in a crouch.

"You know better than I do. What's going _on_ with you?" Her breathing grew heavy. Panic flustered in her eyes.

Courtney scowled, but the glare was weak. "Nothing. Let _go_, Duncan."

"No." I pulled her closer. "What is it? Tell me."

Her eyebrows came together in frustration. She heaved a sigh, and with one swift motion, yanked her arm free and jumped to full height. Courtney glared down at me and turned swiftly on her heel, heading down the dock. I scrambled to follow.

"What is _wrong _with you?" I snapped from behind her, growing agitated. Confusion and anger had made me desperate for an answer. I couldn't let the moment slip from my grasp. "You're acting like a little kid! Just _talk_ to me!"

Courtney continued along the dock, unresponsive to my pleading.

"Well? Aren't you going to say something?" I called. Her speed only seemed to increase.

Fed up, I raced after her, and, grabbing her by the shoulders, twisted her around. But just as she faced me, the world seemed to drop away.

Tears were streaming down her face. Her entire body trembled. Hurt held strong in her eyes. Courtney collapsed into me, grabbing my shirt in fistfuls. She sobbed and shook her head. She was a wreck.

Startled, I quickly caught her as her knees gave out. I slowly descended down, lying in a tangled mess on the wooden dock.

"Hate… _hate_…" was all I could make out from her mumbling.

Not knowing quite what to do, I held her. I said nothing as she seemed to go limp in my arms, like she had no more reason to support herself. I just held her, feeling it was all I could do.

"I hate him." Courtney murmured, pressing herself closer. "Hate… I hate him."

Her breathing was coarse. It came out ragged, strained. It hurt to hear.

I'd kept cold, I'd kept to myself. I didn't want to let anyone in, let them get close. For most of my life, I'd acted heartless to save myself. And, at that moment, I remembered why. Because this feeling, to see someone you care about in pain, to know they've been hurt, is hell. It's this retching, tugging, heaving feeling that can't be lifted with ignorance. It's overpowering, growing and expanding in seconds, until it's the only thing you can feel. Because you know you can't make them better with a smile, with a laugh. The cut's too deep. And being there, with her in my arms, knowing that she was one of the few people I secretly _truly_ cared about and that she was in pain, that she was hurting, was torture.

Courtney had calmed, but only slightly. The crying had been reduced to quiet sobbing.

Deciding that I'd held off long enough, I figured it was okay to talk. "Courtney?" I mumbled in her hair.

The sobbing ceased as Courtney raised her head to lock her eyes with me. They were red from the tears.

"I'm sorry." She said, rubbing her wet cheeks and pulling away. "I just… couldn't stop."

"Don't be…" I sighed. "Don't be sorry. Just _tell_ me what's going on." I had asked, but I didn't really want to know. I wanted someone to jump out from behind a bush and tell me it was a joke, that it was all a setup. But the idea was so beyond reality that I discarded of it immediately after it had been formed.

Courtney's gaze wandered away as she collected her thoughts. After a moment, she swallowed and set her gaze on her trembling hands. "John." She flinched at the name. "Is my… uh, is the guy from the video."

I nodded, feeling my stomach turn. I wasn't sure whether I was ready to hear what she had to say. I braced myself.

"And, uh." A stray tear zigzagged down her cheek. Courtney brushed it away with her finger. "He's not… great. Um,"

It was hard for her to admit to whatever secret she was harboring. Still, I couldn't let the incident pass.

"I hate him. Like you wouldn't imagine. He just… doesn't understand what…" Courtney shook her head. "He doesn't get it. He doesn't know what it means to…" She blew out.

Then, turning to me, she asked a question. "Do you know what it's like to be in love?"

Unsure, I frowned and cautiously answered. "No, not really." It was true enough. Love was something I wasn't entirely familiar with. I'd had my share of girlfriends, but love was something entirely different.

"He would always tell me he loved me." She mumbled, running a hand through her hair shakily. "But he doesn't. Maybe he used to, but not anymore."

Courtney looked up at me. Tears shimmered in the corners of her eyes. She stared for several moments, but broke the connection with a sigh, turning her head.

It was hard. Whatever it was, she was having difficulty telling me.

But her resistance didn't last long. She turned and looked me directly in the eye. Courtney spoke slowly, her words close to breaking.

"Promise… promise not to tell anyone. No one."

I nodded carefully, returning the deep stare. Courtney's eyelashes fluttered in several blinks, and I heard her let it out.

It was like an avalanche; once she started, there was no stopping. She began at the beginning of their relationship, when she'd first met her boyfriend, John, in the hallway during school. He was a senior, and she'd fallen for him. Courtney divulged into details, stressing certain things carefully. Like how he'd been protective. Not the typical protective boyfriend, but somehow odd. He was paranoid, she explained. There was something unusual, almost suspicious, about how she described him.

"And he left, for a minute. To go to the bathroom, or something. I can't remember, but it wasn't a huge deal. He'd left, and I was by myself. But I didn't want to be by myself. So when someone asked me to dance, I said yes. I didn't… think much of it. He was just a friend, if even. But then John came back, and he was upset. So he dragged me outside."

Courtney's voice slowed suddenly. It was as though she couldn't understand what she was saying, like she couldn't believe it was true. At this, I paid closer attention.

"He just… started accusing me. Of everything. He just yelled, and yelled. He started calling me a whore, a slut, telling me I wasn't good enough for him…"

I stiffened. The words seemed harsh, cutting, even in her calm tone. I looked to her face, trying to detect anything to contradict what she'd said, but her expression was the same. A chill crept over me.

"And then…" Courtney stared at the wood beneath her, and I wondered if she knew the words coming out of her mouth. But they were clear, and what she said seemed to make the earth stop turning, the woods fall silent. Nothing spoke.

"He hit me."

My breath caught. My heart stopped.

"What?" I asked, scared.

"Across the cheek." She continued. "Four times until I fell. I couldn't… believe it at first. I just…"

Courtney tightened her hands into fists. "And then… he held me. He _apologized_. He told me he loved me, that it was because he loved me. He told me he cared for me."

Her face turned hard. Her eyes sparked with unsettled emotions. But what pained me the most was that she didn't just look angry, she looked angry at _herself_.

"And I believed him." She whispered harshly.

I was frozen in my spot. I thought I knew her. I thought she was simple, predictable. And yet, I couldn't have prepared myself for this. _Nothing_ could have.

"Every time." She went on. "Every time he hit me, every time he yelled. I believed it was because he didn't want to lose me, because he was secretly scared. Even when he stopped telling me why, I would tell myself. It's because he loves me, he loves me _so_ much."

Courtney held her head in her hands. "And I would blame myself. If I just loved him as much as he did me, he wouldn't get upset. He'd trust me. He'd…"

Her voice seemed to fade. It came again after a moment.

"That's why I'm here. I needed to get away. From him. From… everything. I didn't want to stay there. But after being here a while… I understood. It's not because he loves me, it's because he hates." Courtney straightened, her confidence increasing. "Not me, it's not because he hates _me_. He just hates. Some people love, others hate. And he… can't. Love. He doesn't… know how to love. It's not _me_… it's not _me_…"

Courtney didn't look at me, but I watched her. Watched her shoulders rise and fall with each breath, her eyelashes flutter as she blinked.

My throat was dry. Everything seemed abnormal, so far away from me. I felt only partially conscious. My head hurt. It was hard to accept. Excruciatingly so. I could feel anger rising, but pushed it down.

I would have plenty of days to be angry. Plenty of days to find the bastard and tear him apart, let him feel how _she_ did. But for the moment, there was something else, something more important.

I wrapped an arm around Courtney and pulled her close. Tears resurfaced in her eyes as she fell into me, and I held her tighter.

I made her feel safe.

* * *

Waking up, things were normal. I stood up from my bunk, dressed, and brushed my teeth before the reality of the previous night dawned on me.

I winced violently.

I was one of the first campers to enter the Mess Hall for breakfast. Grabbing my tray, I slid onto the bench at our table and poked at my food. The other campers filed in after me.

When Courtney walked in the room, I glanced up for the first time that morning. She looked unchanged, as though last night never happened. She sat across from me, between Bridgette and DJ. Composedly, she talked amongst our team like it was any other day. I was near convinced that I'd imagined the previous night until her eyes met mine.

Courtney didn't smile, she made no attempt to lighten the fact that I knew what was going on. She tilted her head slightly forward in a barely recognizable nod, just enough to acknowledge me, and returned to conversing.

My arm was nudged. I glanced to my right, to see Geoff settling beside me. He leaned closer and whispered in my ear.

"You okay, dude?" He mumbled slowly. I shrugged a shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

Geoff flicked a glance across the table, then looked back to me. "No reason. I just thought you might've liked her a bit. I'd be bummed in your position."

It took a moment for me to catch on to what he was talking about. Knowing that I had to keep Courtney's secret to myself, I tried to reason. "Nah, just a little. But whatever. There are other chicks on this island, right?" I forced a grin, pretending to not care. It was a lie wrapped within a lie.

He stared for a moment, as though to see if I was lying, but turned to face the table again, finding nothing. I stabbed at my plate, flinching at the unusual sound my breakfast made beneath the utensil. When we had finished and started to fan out of the Mess Hall, I grabbed Courtney by the shoulder and tugged her away.

Looking for a private place to talk, I decided on the confessional. As long as the camera was turned off, our conversation couldn't be aired.

"Duncan!" She hissed, wrenching out of my grip as I forced her through the door and onto the seat. "What is it? Bridgette and I were going to go for a swim and I–"

I sat beside her. "We need to talk."

Courtney arched an eyebrow at this. She scoffed. "About _what_?" I narrowed my eyes, annoyed. She returned the stare for a minute, then turned away and sighed. "I told you everything, okay? What more do you want from me?"

Leaning against the wall, I swallowed. "Uh," My mind went blank. I had anticipated that she'd come out and answer my questions without my having to ask, but I'd been wrong. Though in truth, I couldn't blame her. She had probably spent the night cursing herself for confiding in me. "Look," I continued sheepishly. "I just want to know that you'll be okay. That's it."

Her face softened, and I panicked. As much as I cared, I still didn't want to come off as _nice_. So I straightened and put on my best insensitive expression. "I mean, you dumped all this on me and I don't want to have to be the one to deal with it for you. So, what are you going to do about it?"

Face hardened, Courtney replied in an emotionless tone, "Nothing."

At first, I thought she was just reluctant to tell me due to my remark, which I found pleasing. But when she didn't move, and appeared to be waiting for my response, I felt uneasy. "But really. When this show is over, aren't you going to, I don't know, tell someone?"

Courtney glanced off. "No."

Frowning, I shook my head. "Well… then. What, uh, I mean is… Don't you want it to stop?"

Her eyes flashed. "Of _course_ I do, Duncan. Why wouldn't I?" She snapped.

"Well then why don't you _do_ something?" I asked accusingly. Didn't she know that she could make him stop?

"I am." Courtney crossed her arms firmly. "I'm going to wait."

"What?" I narrowed my eyes, not understanding.

She brushed her hair out of her eyes. "John… leaves for college after the summer. I'll just wait. It'll only be for a couple of weeks after the show, until school starts for him. Then he'll be gone."

The way she said it, it was so simple. Easy, even. But I knew better than to act as though it was okay, as though it was fine. He'd hurt her, and I wasn't just going to let that go unpunished.

Courtney stared, daring me to object. But I didn't. I simply shrugged and stepped out of the confessional. She made me swear to keep my promise, and we went our separate ways.

It was like that. Not just then, but every day following. If Courtney wanted to talk, I was there to listen. But otherwise, I treated her as I had before. It was her choice, I couldn't make it for her, I couldn't force her to tell someone. If I did, she'd resent me for it, even if it _was_ for her own benefit. I would just have to wait until she saw it through my eyes.

Yet in spite of it all, I didn't want her to think I was soft. At least, not at first. I tried to act as if I didn't care, like her pain didn't even faze me. But after a while, I'm pretty sure she saw through it. I never admitted that I cared for her aloud, but it was evident enough. I pretended that no matter how much I acted like it, I didn't sincerely care for her. And Courtney, in return, pretended to believe me. The lies weren't quite necessary, but they did serve a purpose. Me, for my reputation I had to uphold, and Courtney… maybe so we could never _truly_ become close, I wasn't sure.

So we continued normally, competing for the prize. I knew that once the show was over, there was a chance of us going our separate ways. But I wouldn't let that happen. I _couldn't_. One day, when she was in Arts and Crafts, I snuck into the girls' cabin. Sharpie in hand, I carefully wrote my name and number on the inside of her suitcase. Knowing perfectly well that she would only notice it when her time came to pack her things from what was stored in the small dresser provided, I was confident that she wouldn't have the time to yell. And if Courtney _did_ yell, it would be over the phone, which meant my plan had gone accordingly, and I had nothing to worry about.

But then, there was always something to worry about.

* * *

"Duncan…?"

A whisper, so faint I nearly didn't catch it. I pressed the phone closer to my ear. I needed to hear.

"I…" Her voice shook. "I… I…"

There was soft crying on the other line, and that made up my mind. I spoke firmly, decisively. "I'm coming."

Her crying let up for a moment. "What? No, no. Duncan you can't. I won't–"

There wasn't anything she could say. It wasn't often she called upset. Only once, a month before, Courtney called, and I hadn't found any sleep that night. It was torture, knowing that he was able to hurt her, and I wasn't there to stop it. But this time, the opportunity would slip from my grasp.

"I'll be there in thirty minutes." I snapped the phone shut and snatched my keys.

I made it in twenty-five.

Speeding, predictably, was involved. But that was beside the point. I parked in front of her house and ran up to the door. I knocked forcefully and waited a moment before it opened.

Hidden by the shadowy night, Courtney slipped out from behind the front door. I could make out her shape in the dark, but her eyes were the only things I could see in detail.

"I told you not to come." She murmured, though not disappointedly. I knew she was glad I'd come.

I stepped inside and watched as she closed the door. No lights were on in the house. I immediately became suspicious. "Yeah, well. I'm here now. So what happened?"

Courtney hugged her waist and wandered through the foyer. After kicking off my shoes, I followed her to the living room. She crouched on the edge of the couch and stared at the floor.

"There was yelling." She ran her hand over the arm of the couch softly. "A lot of yelling." Her eyes rose to meet mine, and a kind of pride flickered in them. "But I didn't let him talk me down, at least."

A small, relieved sigh escaped my lips. I walked, slowly, and sat beside her. I was about to make a comment, when I noticed something. Cautiously, I reached over and flicked on the lamp. Courtney flinched at the light, and hung her head slightly. Moving closer, I tilted her chin back. She moved with reluctance.

On the top of her cheek was a bruise of black and red.

I filled with rage. Courtney took notice at once.

"It doesn't even hurt that much." She said, trying to lessen the damage. "I'll be fine."

"I'm going to kill him." I stood and clenched my jaw. Anger washed over me. He was _dead_. "I'm going to fucking _kill _him."

As I tried to leave, Courtney grabbed my hand. "Duncan!" She barked, and I turned.

"No." I shook my head, stubbornness in my voice. "I'm not letting this go. Not again. He's not getting away with hurting you this time. I'm going to–"

"No." She cut in sharply. I stopped and looked at her. There was determination in her voice. "He's not." Courtney swallowed and balled her hands into fists. "I'm… thinking about calling a lawyer."

My eyes widened. "You mean…?"

Courtney nodded and breathed in, as if for strength. "I'm done with this. With him. It's only gotten worse since he started college. And… I've had enough."

It took me a moment to take it in. She was going to stop it, stop _him_. She wouldn't have to hear him yell, feel him hurt her. I wouldn't have to worry, worry that she'd feel hated.

I returned to my spot beside Courtney, the relief still sinking in. It was a nice feeling.

"Good… good. I'm glad." I admitted with a small nod of my head. Moving closer, I inspected the bruise. "You sure it doesn't hurt?" I asked quietly, running a thumb over the dark mark. I could hear her breath catch.

"It's fine." Courtney whispered hoarsely. Her breath pulsed on my hand.

"Yeah?" I mumbled, not really wanting an answer. Just an excuse not to move. Courtney nodded, very slowly. As if she was only partly listening. I slid my thumb down, feeling her skin. I moved near, letting our noses brush. She was still.

Tentatively, I tilted my head to the right. I felt as though I was waiting; waiting for Courtney to interrupt me, to tell me to stop. As though what was happening would suddenly dawn on her and she'd come to her senses. But she didn't. Her eyed stayed locked onto mine, innocent and… something. I couldn't tell what the look was. Fear, maybe. But whatever it was, it wasn't strong enough to make her pull away.

I couldn't hold off, it'd start to hurt if I did. So I kissed her softly, slowly. Courtney didn't pull away, as was a small suspicion I'd had. She pressed uncertainly, as though she didn't know how I'd react.

My heart thumped passionately in my chest, my head went foggy. I could only feel her; everything else had long faded away.

Courtney broke off gently, and a request fell on my skin.

"Never hurt me." She whispered, and I could feel hope in her voice, timid but demanding.

I opened my eyes and stared directly into hers. She looked at me with trust, with faith.

"I won't."

A pair of hands wrapped around my neck, and Courtney's breathing grew slower. She shivered as her lips touched mine.

And everything fell into place.

* * *

"Please speak into the microphone."

I gripped the arms of the chair and leaned forward with anticipation. From where I sat, my view of Courtney was obstructed. I craned my head to get a better look, and caught a quick glimpse.

She looked nervous, but I knew how strong she was. Head hung low, she moved closer to the microphone and said tensely, "I met John Anderson on November twenty-second of last year. At school."

The judge nodded and cleared her throat. "Could you point to him, please?"

Her arm extended in a strait line across the court room, and I glanced at the individual. A hard scowl crossed the young man's face, but was barely noticeable under the black eye and bruised lip.

Courtesy of me, but I didn't let Courtney know that.

"Thank you, dear." The judge returned her gaze to Courtney. Calmly, she continued. "Now, I want you to recall your relationship with Mr. Anderson from over the past ten months, as best you can. Start from when you first met, and progress from there."

I held my breath, and straightened in my seat at the back of the room, where I could barely be seen. I waited for Courtney to begin, waiting for the worse.

I'd heard the story several times, but it didn't make it any easier. Mainly because I knew it would be the hardest thing she'd ever have to do. I wanted to run to the front of the court room, jump into the witness box, and hold her. Tell her it would be okay. Take the weight from her shoulders. Make everything right. But I couldn't, as hard as I tried. It was something she had to do by herself. I could only be there to support her.

No words came from Courtney's lips at first. I tensed, thinking she wouldn't be able to do it, until her eyes found mine. I attempted a smile, but it fell weak. Her confidence, only on the other hand, appeared to increase. She tilted her chin back, and the truth spilled out.

Her voice sounded raspy at points, an obvious affect of having forced the words from her. But it came out all the same. And finally, a half hour later, a mallet was slammed and a sentence was given.

We met outside. The wind rushed by us, but we didn't notice. Courtney ran to me, body shaking. I held her close, relieved to finally be able to do so.

"I'm proud of you." I murmured in her ear. She pulled back and blew out a breath.

"I am too." She whispered. "I'm glad you came."

I shrugged a shoulder lightly. "It's what I'm here for, right?"

Courtney nodded, and paused. Her eyes lifted and met mine, narrowing slightly. "Why did he have a black eye?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips. "He deserved it."

"Duncan…" She shook her head with a little sigh. "I told you not to."

"So?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Well? What if they'd called the police? Huh? Or what if he had a weapon? What if–"

"_Courtney_."

She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes staring deep into mine. I leaned down and kissed her tenderly. Warmth rushed through me. I could never get used to the feeling of kissing her; it was always so exciting, yet comfortable, as though I was _meant_ to be there. We parted after a long moment. Courtney moved closer and laid her head on my shoulder gently.

"Just don't get sent to jail, okay?" She mumbled quietly, though rather seriously.

I smiled softly, taking in the moment. She was turning me soft, I knew it. Whether I minded or not, I wasn't sure. All I knew was that right then, there's no where else I wanted to be, standing there with her in my arms.

"Yes, dear."

* * *

**Aren't they just adorable? Heh, kind of cute. For the record, you **_**can**_** get sent to jail for dating abuse. It's assault, technically. I can't give you details, but I did my research. It wasn't just an idea I made up.**

**Again, I'm flabbergasted at the amount of reviews I received. Seriously, flabbergasted is not a term I use lightly. That puts a lot of pressure on me as an author to write an equally good next chapter, but I freely accept it. As always, thank you for that. Thirty-two reviews for two chapters? Really, you spoil me.**

**And once again, I'd be more than happy to receive some ideas. So if you have any characters (from TDI) that you'd like to see, or any genre you think could be interesting, or any aspect that you want to suggest, feel free to do so.**


	4. Loving

************

She slid her finger under the wide strap resting on her shoulder and pulled it off tentatively. Heart pounding, she slipped the silk dress from her waist and let it drop to the floor with a soft thud. Letting out an uncontrolled breath, she reached for her crumpled night shirt and pushed her head through the opening. She crept over and settled on her bed, grasping her wrist with the other hand nervously. A chill flushed through her chest, and she shivered. The room was colder than usual, why was that? She tugged the sheets over her legs and leaned against the headboard. Her palms were clammy. She blinked quickly and stared and the unlit ceiling. A moment came and went, but the urgency had yet to pass.

The door clicked, and Courtney shot up with a sharp intake of breath. A figure stepped in, and she pressed herself closer to the headboard. Her fingers twitched anxiously.

"Go." She ordered in a poorly assured voice. The figure didn't leave, he stepped closer. Courtney swallowed difficultly and raised her chin, trying to look determined. "I said, go."

The figure stepped closer once again, coming into contact with the soft glow from outside the hotel window. His blue eyes sent vibes through her, and her face went hot under his sharp gaze. He could see through the lies, she knew. But her willpower hadn't withered entirely. No, she was strong enough to resist. But the question was, did she still want to?

He rested his palms on the foot of the bed and leaned towards her. Instinctively, she turned the other way. He advanced forward, and her breath caught with nerves.

"Go." She repeated again. This time, she said it with a pleading tone. But again, he didn't respond. Courtney turned her shoulder into herself protectively. She watched him carefully, taking note of the way his body progressed. Each movement was precise, every shift acute. She was nervous.

Duncan's moved over her, placing his arms on either of her sides. Courtney flinched at their close proximity. She could feel his breath as it tickled the surface of her skin. A voice panged warnings in the back of her head.

_Kick him off! Now! Before he gets to you!_

But she was distant, unconnected. Beyond reach. She could feel his smooth skin on hers where her shirt had raised slightly. His wrist brushed against her hip, and the feeling was enough to make her dizzy. Duncan's face was detailed from where she lay, each feature outlined in the faint light. Pale skin, a strong jaw, and the eyes. _Oh_, his eyes. They could read her like no one could. They understood her better than she did. _He _understood her.

Courtney knew she should stop. Stop letting him take advantage of her. Gain ground on her. Sneak under her defenses. But she couldn't bring herself to. No, she couldn't. He had gotten under her skin, and chosen to stay. There was no turning back. There was merely moving forward.

Hovering, he was hovering. Neither teen moved. Neither teen wanted to. At least, not quite yet.

She breathed in fear, she exhaled resistance. She wasn't sure where this would lead, what it would bring them to. But she couldn't wait. Wait to find out, wait to see. Courtney chose not to focus on tomorrow, on later. After. The moment was in her grasp. Look ahead, and she'd lose it. Gone.

Adrenaline pulsed through her veins. When had she last felt this way? Never. Not once. This was new, the feeling. It was amazing. It was all she could feel. All she could be.

She was ready, bold. There was no time for hesitation. "Go." Courtney whispered firmly, eyes flickering with excitement. Duncan seemed to freeze uncertainly, though he'd been still before. Suddenly, he didn't appear so sure. He looked caught between pulling away and pushing closer. Courtney realized, then, that she hadn't been clear. She raised her hand slowly and brushed it along Duncan's forearm. "_Go_." She murmured softly, tilting her head to the right. She could feel her mouth go dry.

_Kiss me before I lose the nerve._

He moved, stealthily. Their noses brushed. Courtney's head was misty with lust, with wanting. Duncan's arms wrapped around her waist, their torsos pressed against one another warmly. Her breathing was heavy. Her eyelids were drawing to a close, her fingers curling inwards as loose fists.

_Now._

The irony didn't register with her. Just as her mind screamed with urgency, he pressed his lips to hers. Duncan pushed her harder against the headboard as he kissed her deeper. Slowly, and without breaking the kiss, Courtney slipped down amidst the bed sheets, letting Duncan push her against the mattress as he took over. She lost herself.

Warmth. Heat. She was only half-conscious. At least, that's how it felt. The way he moved against her, the way he seemed to fit, it made her breathless. Made her skin shiver. It made everything else insignificant.

His lips lefts hers, for a moment, as his mouth traveled along her cheek. He kissed her neck, her jaw. Courtney's eyes opened, and a guilty smile worked its way onto her lips. She let out a sigh, then a gasp, as Duncan kissed more forcefully.

Blind as she had become from the kiss, she understood the whispered words escaping her lips perfectly. A surge of emotions followed.

"I love you."

Suddenly, Duncan stopped. He went deathly rigid. He pulled back after a second, staring at her clearly. Confusion riled in his eyes. His breathing slowed, nearly stopped. Courtney didn't know what she had done wrong, but didn't try to take back the words. It was too late.

He slid off the bed and, without so much as a lingering gaze, left the room as silently as he had entered. The door clicked as it shut behind him. All was quiet.

She waited. Waited for him to come back, to return the feeling. To apologize for leaving her hanging. Her heart reaching out, hoping he'd take hold. But only the night came to greet her. Soberness set through her skin.

Courtney didn't say a word. She slowly pulled the sheets up to her shoulder and sunk into the cushiony bed, turning on her side. Pain clenched violently in her stomach.

_What just happened?_

She clamped her eyes shut, as her cheeks streaked with tears of regret, and the night took over.

* * *

Breakfast was usually something Courtney looked forward to. After so many weeks of Chef's disgusting slop, the Playa des Losers breakfast buffet was a Godsend. But, that morning, she couldn't even work up the willpower to drag herself out of bed.

She's been honest. Let it all go. Left her worries at the door and ran with her feelings. And how had it worked out? He left, without a word. What idiot mistakes, on both of their parts.

There was pounding on the door. Scowling, Courtney crawled from her bed and opened the hotel room door wide. Bridgette, smiling as usual, stood fully dressed. Her eyes took in Courtney and the corners of her mouth turned downwards in a slight frown.

"Why aren't you dressed yet? It's nine o'clock already!" Bridgette pushed through the door swiftly and perched on the edge of the unmade bed. The blonde blinked innocently, head tilted to the side with childlike curiosity.

Courtney hugged her waist and sat beside her friend stiffly. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I'll meet you in the dining room in about ten minutes, okay?"

Her friend nodded, then eyed her skeptically. "Are you alright, Courtney? You seem kind of… I don't know… depressed or something."

"Do I?" She shrugged lightly and ran a hand through her hair. Courtney tried to play casual, but the airy comment only made Bridgette look more concerned. "I didn't realize."

Bridgette slowly stood and nodded once more, trying to accept her excuse. "Okay, well. I was just wondering if it had anything to do with the party last night. I mean, Duncan was really out of line with his flirting and everything, so…"

His name made Courtney wince inwardly, but she brushed off the feeling, hoping the disdain didn't show on her face. Waving her hand, she dismissed the idea. "No, no. I'm fine. Just tired. Go, eat. I'll be there soon."

After Bridgette had left, Courtney stood and walked over to the washroom. She splashed her face with cold water, hoping to bring herself back to her senses, and quickly brushed her teeth. Once dressed, she took a moment to collect herself.

She'd shed her tears, and now she would bounce back, act like nothing was wrong. It was that simple. No more bullshit. She was done. _Finished_ with ogres like Duncan who only wanted one thing. Why had she let herself believe he was any different? As if he even cared?

But it had hurt. She couldn't get around that fact. No matter how cold she could become, the rejection, in all its glory, had cut like a knife.

Courtney slammed the door behind her sharply and ran to meet her friend, driven by her newfound determination. Bridgette was waiting for her in the main dining hall, holding a plate in either hand. She handed her one.

"You were quick. Hungry?" Courtney nodded and moved along the buffet table, picking out food.

Halfway through, Bridgette nudged her slightly, gesturing to the mass of chattering teens scattered around the Playa des Losers dining hall. "Hey, do you mind if we sit with Geoff and the guys?" Courtney lifted her eyes and scanned the tables spread around the room. Geoff's cowboy hat caught her attention, and she glanced at the faces sitting at the table. She was instantly aware that Duncan was one of them. Her heart lurched.

Courtney was about to suggest that they sit somewhere else, but caught herself. She didn't care, right? Moved on. She had moved on.

"Of course, Bridgette. That's fine." Rolling her shoulders back, Courtney led the way to the table, stopping at Geoff's chair promptly. The boys looked up from their plates and murmured greetings. Geoff stood and gave Bridgette a loud, over-dramatic kiss. The blonde giggled, a blush staining her cheeks.

With a composed, "Good morning," Courtney slipped onto one of the padded chairs. Duncan glanced up, and she pretended not to notice, though his gaze made her shudder slightly. After a moment, he returned to poking at his food.

"Morning, Courtney." DJ said with a smile. "Did you sleep well?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Courtney saw Duncan stop and listen. He didn't raise his eyes, but his attention was clear.

"Not bad." She said plainly, stabbing her eggs with a fork. Let him believe that the rejection hadn't affected her at all. As if it hadn't stung. "Pretty well, actually."

"Oh."

They picked at their food, making light, meaningless conversation. Throughout the morning, Duncan remained silent, avoiding everyone's eyes. And Courtney, in turn, pretended to barely acknowledge his presence. Meanwhile, the other ex-campers remained oblivious to the growing tension.

When her plate was clean, Courtney took a moment to plan her actions. She had no intention of talking to Duncan; there was nothing she had to say. But if there was any chance he had a word to share with her, she needed to come up with an escape route. No doubt Bridgette would have been her first alibi, but she had made plans with Geoff. And being their third wheel would have made her more than approachable. Courtney tapped her fingers on the edge of the table, thinking hard. The very last thing she wanted to do was retreat to her hotel room on the fourth floor and hide under her covers. If she had sought to prove herself feeble and unconfident, it would have been her first stop.

As a waiter cleared their plates away, Courtney and Duncan stood in unison. Their eyes locked, and Courtney boldly stared back, trying to ignore the queasy feeling in her stomach. But her insides churned at the coldness of his eyes, and the reality pounded in her head. So before she could unintentionally give Duncan the chance to confront her, she turned sharply and strode out of the room.

She tore down the hallway, as if she could escape her feelings. Her arms swung stiffly by her sides. A prickling feeling touched her eyelids. Oh, hell. Tears. Courtney clamped her eyes shut, not wanting them to fall. In desperation, she pushed open a door on her right and fled down the stairs, three flights, before she dropped in a heap at the bottom.

Her sight blurred, and her cheeks felt damp. The hard tile floor was cold beneath her. Courtney pressed her back against the wall and brought her knees to her chest. Oh, where had her confidence gone to? Weak, she was weak.

But why didn't he love her? All of what he'd said on the island… and she'd believed him. Kissed him. Denied it, but not for long. He came to her room, and she fell for him again. But the one time she was truly brave with her feelings? The one time she was _honest_? Rejected. Not even aloud, only with his actions.

Screw being strong. Forget moving on. She was _miserable_. Devastated. Heart-broken. And by whom? The boy she denied over and over again? By the very delinquent she vowed never to get involved with? The only boy who had ever made her heart race faster… made her head pound… made the rest of the world disappear from beneath her feet…?

All because she liked him too much. _Loved_ him.

Hadn't she done exactly what he wanted? Fallen for him? Courtney had taken a chance and let her heart decide her actions for once. And where did that leave her? At the bottom of a stairwell, tears spilling over her cheeks, alone, with her heart split in two.

Because Duncan must not have been looking for what she found. He wanted summer heat, probably. Or maybe he made a bet with himself to see if he could get her to crack. Get her to throw away all she knew and get caught up in his eyes. He'd succeeded; but apparently too well. Maybe, _hopefully_, the guilt found him. Who knows, maybe there was a single cell of remorse in the boy's body.

Had she been wrong? Made a mistake? Was it wrong to love him?

Duncan had been right, for one thing. He _wasn't _nice.

Standing on wobbling legs, Courtney wiped her eyes on her sleeves and breathed in. She began climbing the stairs, slowly. It would've been easier to take the elevator, but why risk running into another ex-contestant? No, it was better to walk. No one, _no one _needed to know that she had shed tears. No one needed to know that she'd been vulnerable. For all they should know, Courtney was as self-assured as ever.

She pushed open the door and crept down the hallway, looking for her room. Who had she been kidding? Hiding under her covers was the very _first _thing she wanted to do. Finding the right door, Courtney pulled out her key and fixed it in the keyhole. She twisted the knob and stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She made her way over to the washroom and flicked on the light, wincing at her appearance. After wiping her eyes with a tissue and once the red had subsided, Courtney walked over to the dresser and tugged open a drawer. She pulled out her bathing suit and changed quietly. A swim would do her some good. And if her eyes were still red later on, she could always blame the chlorinated pool water.

Because _no one_ needed to know that she had cried.

* * *

"Courtney…"

Huh, no nickname. He must've been serious.

It was the first time Duncan had directly spoken to her in the past three days. It was mostly due to her avoidance, but he hadn't gone out of his way to speak with her, either. Neither teen was innocent.

"Hmm?" Courtney glanced over her magazine through narrowed eyes, raising an eyebrow slightly. The act had been going fairly well. She pretended nothing happened, retreating inside herself whenever he was near. Though in truth, the situation hadn't left her thoughts for a moment.

Duncan ran a hand through his hair and glanced around the lobby, as if to find assistance. It hurt, to be close to him. Courtney shifted in her chair. "Look, can we, uh, talk?"

Icily, Courtney's gaze slid from Duncan back to the glossy pages in her hands. "Oh, sorry Duncan but I'm a little _busy_." She stressed the word smoothly, as to inform him that she was in fact entirely free, but held no interest in speaking with him. He picked up on the hint, and sighed irritably.

"Just… _come_." He slid his hand around her wrist and made to pull her away. But, without looking from her magazine, Courtney snapped her hand back and crossed her legs promptly.

"No, _thanks_." She flipped a page quickly and feigned interest in a _Seventeen _article about the Jonas Brothers, though she was only aware of Duncan's pleading stare. She tried to ignore it.

He growled under his breath and, without hesitation, grabbed Courtney's wrist for the second time and forcefully led her out of the lobby. The magazine dropped to the floor with a slap. Courtney growled, losing her cool, and struggled against him. "Let _go_!" She snapped. Duncan made no comment until he pulled her out of the building and into bare, well-lit alley.

"Stop it!" She yanked her arm free and glared, taking a step back from Duncan. "What do you _want_?"

"I'm sorry, _okay_?" he said in a desperate rush. Though, Courtney noted, the apology wasn't for the hauling out of the hotel, and she paused to listen. "I was an idiot! For not saying anything before… and for not saying this earlier… I'm _sorry_."

She was taken aback by the confession. Duncan's eyes were hopeful, earnest, and they made her straighten. It must've been hard for him to admit that he'd been wrong. But it wasn't enough. Not even _close_. Courtney lifted her chin with importance. "I forgive you." The response was cold, formal, and Duncan's shoulders drooped.

"I really am sorry." He tried again, intention evident. He wanted her to forgive him, and let everything go back to normal. One out of two would have to satisfy him.

"I know." Courtney said coolly. Her tone made it obvious that his efforts were pointless. Good, let him be devastated. Let him feel as though the world was crashing down on him.

Duncan's voice grew hard. "Don't do this, Princess. At least hear me out."

Moving backwards to lean against the brick wall behind her, Courtney crossed her arms and kept a monotone expression. "Talk, then." She demanded.

He swallowed. He fidgeted. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around nervously. Duncan exhaled. "Uh," He stopped, mouth open. Swallowing for a second time, Duncan scuffed his shoes along the ground sheepishly and avoided her eyes. "This is… kind of difficult."

A sour smile crossed her lips. "Yeah, some things are just so damn hard to admit, huh?"

Duncan looked up and scowled fiercely. "Look, I _said _I was sorry, alright?"

Courtney's anger rose as well. "Yeah, you also said a lot of _other _things, too! All of which _I _believed! But I'm over your bullshit, Duncan! I don't want to hear how 'sorry' you are. I don't buy it!"

"I **am** sorry!" He yelled. "You have no _fucking_ idea!"

Suddenly, a tidal wave of emotions crashed over her. The anger, the sadness, the disappointment, it all tumbled down. Her face felt hot. Shit, tears. Not in front of Duncan!

"Well I'm sorry too!" Courtney poked his chest accusingly. Duncan tried to intervene, but she continued too quickly, overcome by herself. "I'm sorry I met you! Sorry I signed up for this show! Sorry I let my feelings persuade my common sense! I'm sorry I ever kissed you!" She stopped, just for a moment. Her voice, though still shaking, cooled. "But I'm not sorry for what I said."

For a moment, Duncan's dim eyes seemed to light up, as if there was still hope, a light at the end of the tunnel. Why did he even care? She was _done_ with him, and it was high time he accepted it. But, Courtney continued. "Because if I hadn't… I wouldn't have found out what a jackass you are." His face fell.

"Courtney…" Duncan started, but didn't finish. He raised a hand and wiped his thumb along her cheek. Courtney turned away swiftly at the touch, but brought a hand to her face.

It was wet.

"Damn…" She muttered to herself, though the tears refused to stop flowing. Turning on her heel, Courtney broke into a sprint. Duncan called after her, but she didn't stop. She just kept running, hoping the wind would blow away the tears.

* * *

She heard the door open. It was quiet, nearly unnoticeable, but she heard. Courtney brought the sheets closer to herself, hoping that if she pretended not to know, he wouldn't actually be there. But his voice came.

"Princess?"

Should've locked the door…

She sat up and looked at him. It was tempting to throw the pillow at his head, but she restrained herself. For what reason, she was not quite sure.

"I get it." Duncan mumbled, not dropping his gaze as she had expected. "I didn't before, but I do now. You have to know that I'm not… like that."

Like what? A man-whore? An ass? A _liar_? Because at the moment, that's exactly what she found him to be. And no matter the tangle of lies he would surely throw at her, she wouldn't believe him. Courtney knew better.

Duncan showed no signs of being disappointed when she didn't respond. It was as if it'd been exactly what he was expecting. He continued. "And I know you probably don't want me to be here right now, but give me a minute."

He suddenly seemed to be aware of his physical state, as he walked over and sat on the end of her bed. Courtney drew her legs closer to herself. "What you said… kind of freaked me out. So I panicked and left. I'm not really good with this sort of stuff." Duncan explained. "And… that was probably bad of me."

Courtney was tempted to say: _You think?_ but held her tongue.

"I…" Duncan started, then groaned and dropped his head in his hands. After a moment, he raised his head again and tossed his hands in the air. "I _do_ love you, okay! Like hell I do! It's just so damn hard for me to get out!"

_Liar._

"You… you don't mean that." Courtney swallowed. "You're just saying it so I'll forgive you." It wasn't true. It couldn't be.

Duncan glanced up, and shook his head slowly. He was creeping over. Over her, arms on either side. For the second time that week, his breath was on her skin. He would try to prove it to her. She _knew_.

His lips pressed on hers quickly, and Courtney tried to wrestle away. The wanting started to return, and she could feel her resistance fading. But he was a liar! A liar. A… a liar… a…

"No… Duncan." Courtney felt herself leaning into the kiss, despite her better judgment. Her vision went foggy for a moment, head heavy, but the warnings came back clear and strong. "Get **off**!"

With a surge of strength, Courtney forcefully shoved the boy off of her. He landed on the floor with a resounding _thud_ and a loud groan.

"You can't _do _this to me, Duncan!" She growled, sitting up and glaring over the side of the bed. "I'm done with you, _got it_? I don't trust a word you say! And no matter how much you try to seduce me or whatever the _hell_ you're trying, it's not going to work! It's **over**!"

Jumping up, Duncan faced her and leaned close, face determined, nearly desperate. "No, it's not! You can't honestly tell me that in three days you're entirely over me!"

"No, I can't!" She snapped, crawling off the bed. "Because I'm an idiot! Because I believed you! Because I loved you! Because I thought you actually _cared_ for me!"

There was hurt in his eyes, Courtney could see it. Panting, Duncan stepped closer and gripped her by her shoulders. Courtney twisted in vain, but he held firm.

"Listen to me!" Duncan ordered, voice steady. Courtney glared and continued to struggle, but to little avail. "I love you. I don't care if you don't like it, or if you don't believe it. I _do_. And if you think I'm going to back off, forget about it! I'm _not_ letting seven weeks of trying to get you to feel the same way to go to waste. I _need_ you, babe. I'm not letting this stay screwed up, because I did for three days, and it was _hell_." He took a pause and exhaled, before turning back to her. "I was an idiot to wait this long, but don't let my being a wimp ruin this. I was freaked out and… I wasn't sure. I've never felt this way before, okay! I've never _been _in love before! It is _not _over. It **can't** be!"

His honesty hit a nerve. She could see it— _feel_ it. There was a certain force to his words, a sort of strong desperation that she had never seen before. Duncan's eyes seized her, and forced her to recognize the truth.

He loved her. More than words could describe.

Courtney flinched, and, calmly, the resistance slowly began to melt away.

As afraid as she was of getting hurt by Duncan, Courtney discovered something else: she was more afraid of _losing_ him. Because in truth, losing him would break her. Rip at her, tear her apart. It sickened Courtney to think of spending every day without him, in spite of his annoying, irritating habits. And while he _could_ hurt her, wasn't he worth the risk? Worth the leap of faith? Worth throwing her worries at the door and running with her feelings? Because, as she suddenly realized, he was there to catch her.

He'd been there all along.

Courtney wiped the angry tears from her eyes and reached up towards Duncan. She pulled him towards her, and pressed her lips to his.

Duncan clung to her, as though she could easily slip from his grasp. And, in a way, she had. But Courtney was back in a place where she belonged, where she was wanted. _Needed_. A place where she could never be taken for granted. Where she would always be loved.

In the arms of a delinquent.

* * *

**You have no idea how long that ending took! I wrote the story in about three or four nights, which is pretty good for me. But the ending I would write, re-write, delete and rewrite again until my head throbbed. Every time I wrote it, it was either too rushed or too dragged on. Or, just not interesting enough. So aggravating! Tell me what you think of it!**

**I have to say, I'm a little bit peeved. I was randomly looking through stories when I decided to click on a D/C fic. Reading it, I discovered that the story was nearly identical to the first chapter of Together. The author had basically taken the story and re-written it, keeping all the same main ideas and plot. But, I'm not going to make a huge deal out of it. I don't think the author's intention was poor, but even still. It sucks to have something if yours plagiarized, especially when they get any credit or you worked hard on it. Luckily, I read the reviews for the story and I wasn't the only one to notice. So yeah.**

**I was listening to Panic at the Disco's Lying is the Most Fun and I was inspired to write the first part, and it later turned into the entire story. I really like that song… Anyway, I wanted to try something different with this. Instead of the whole thing being about: 'When are they going to hook up already? Gosh!' I wanted to write one in which the beginning is when they hook up, not at the end. I mean, they make up at the end… but why would I leave you without a happy ending, huh?**

**I'm thinking I might write a two-shot at some point. Think it's a good idea? Maybe, maybe… Right now I'm really excited because I'm starting a new D/C fic. But instead of random updates, I figure I'll write all of it this summer, and update every Monday. Something like that.**

**Such a long A/N! Sorry- I had a lot to say. To sum it up, thank you. For reading, for reviewing. For re-reading (I'm not the only one that does that, right?) And anything else that I missed. Thanks!**


	5. Learning

********

"I could. I _swear_ I could."

"There's no way. No offense, dude, but she'd never go for you."

A grin pressed on the surface of Duncan's face. "You think? Give me a week. I could do it."

Geoff shook his blond head. "Dude, she's the owner's _daughter_. Way out of your league." Duncan shot his friend a look, and Geoff quickly amended. "Besides, she's not your type. Courtney's high maintenance. And I mean _high_."

Duncan glanced over the cabana counter and across the hyper-chlorinated pool. In a beige pool chair laid a teenage girl of about sixteen, the sun gleaming on the surface of her oversized sunglasses. She held a magazine in one naturally tanned hand, and a tropical drink in the other.

"_Hot_ is my type, Geoff. Just give me a go at her, you'll see." Duncan said firmly, letting his eyes graze up and down Courtney's bikini-clad body.

"Better men than you have tried, dude. That's all I'm saying." Geoff shrugged, snatching a towel off of the counter and tossing it into a large hamper in the back of the cabana. "But you've got the whole summer, at least. You're quitting once school starts, right?"

Letting his gaze slowly return to Geoff, Duncan gave a slight nod. "There's no way I'm staying a towel boy all year, I don't care _how _nice this place is. Once I've got enough money for my car, I'm outta here."

Typically, a job at the five-star Turion Hotel was a dream come true. Between the staff buffet lunch and the year round good weather, it was pretty hard to find something to complain about. But for Duncan, a job meant a boss, which meant having to report to a superior. And that didn't suit him. Not to mention having to collect used, dirty towels and clean the Olympic-sized pool on a daily basis. But the cash was good, being a swanky, high-end hotel. And the view wasn't too bad, either, what with all the pretty girls on vacation. Still, it was work.

Not that he wasn't lucky to get a job in the first place. His record wasn't the best— one too many trips to Juvie had narrowed his options, for sure. But Duncan had connections in security, and Geoff had vouched a recommendation for him. But really, he wasn't quite as bad a guy as most would assume. People often judged by his outward appearance— the Mohawk and various piercings didn't seem to give off such an innocent vibe. If anything, he had a tendency to scare people.

And Duncan made right well sure to keep it that way.

These thoughts were swarming around his mind when something suddenly caught his eye.

"Wait— Geoff, piss off."

Geoff's eyebrows furrowed. "What?'

"_Leave._" Duncan barked, pushing his friend out of the cabana. "Courtney's coming over. I'll show you _exactly _how it's done, my man. Just give me a minute alone with her."

"Alright," The young man sighed, shrugging and heading for the door. "But don't say I didn't warn you. She's pretty fierce."

Duncan watched as the brunette swayed towards him. "Nothing I can't handle. Now _go_." Geoff bustled out, leaving Duncan on his own. Not a moment later, Courtney stopped at the other side of the counter.

"Hi, could I get a towel?" She asked smoothly, eyes hidden behind the shadow of her glasses. Duncan pulled out a fluffy white towel from behind, but didn't offer it right away.

"Sure," he said with a slight smile, letting his arm rest on the warm surface of the counter. "But I might ask for something in return."

She didn't smile. She didn't even appear to be suppressing one. "Could you just give me the towel?"

Duncan shrugged. "Maybe. What's your name?" He was toying with her.

Her eyes seemed to have narrowed from underneath her glasses, though Duncan couldn't tell for sure. "I didn't come over to have a conversation with you, you know."

"Your name," Duncan repeated. "That's all I'm asking."

She mulled over the idea in her mind for a minute, lips pursed, before reluctantly answering. "Courtney. _Now _will you give me the towel?"

"Ah, right. Courtney." He pretended to take it in, before leaning across the counter towards her with interest. "Your dad owns the hotel, right?"

Duncan had a good idea that Courtney knew that he was just playing with her, by the way her hands stood on her hips firmly. "Yeah. So?"

"Do you live here?"

Courtney sighed. "Why are you even asking?"

Sensing an opportunity, Duncan grinned and moved closer, like he was whispering something sweet in her ear. "Because," he said slowly, hoping to get her heart revving. "You happen to be the _finest_ girl here. And frankly, I'd really like to get to know you better."

He stepped back, still fingering the towel, and waited.

Courtney raised a slim hand to the frame of her sunglasses and slipped them off of her face. Her dark eyes took in Duncan's, and he felt his stomach drop to his feet.

"_Excuse _me?" She growled, eyes suddenly flashing furiously. "What do I look like? Some half-drunk slut in a bar?" Courtney scoffed and gritted her teeth. "What, did you honestly think that I'd be _flattered_ by being hit on by you? _Please_." She took a step towards the cabana, bringing up her arm. Duncan reeled back with surprise, thinking she was going to hit him. But instead, Courtney snatched the towel from Duncan's grip and whipped around, storming back to her chair.

Duncan stood still. Confusion swarmed in his mind.

He'd expected a bit of persuasion being needed, a little convincing. Maybe a few compliments, a couple witty remarks. But he certainly hadn't expected _that_.

A scowl crossed the teen's face as he watched Courtney settle back into her chair and pick up her drink, seemingly unchanged by the incident. Duncan glared for a moment, but the fierceness drained away as a thought came to mind. His previous grin returned. It wasn't hopeless. Not in the least.

After all, Duncan was always up to a challenge.

* * *

"Sorry, towel recall."

Duncan swooped down and whipped the towel from under Courtney's head. She yelped and turned to yell, but Duncan had already started towards the pool cabana— chuckling to himself as he did. As he had predicted, Courtney was up and out of her seat following him. He led her into the cabana and slammed the door. Courtney glowered.

"What do you think you're doing?" She demanded heatedly, crossing her arms and stepping to Duncan. "Who do you think you're _dealing_ with? I could get you f—"

"_Look_." Duncan cut in swiftly. "I just wanted to say, I'm sorry for earlier."

Courtney narrowed her eyes. "Oh?"

"Yeah," he gave a sly shrug and leaned against the wall, holding what must have appeared to be an honest, sincere smile. "Sure. I was just joking. I didn't mean for you to get all pissed."

Her eyes remained spitefully narrowed.

"Seriously." Duncan reassured her convincingly.

She held the look for several moments, but finally, Courtney dropped her crossed arms and sighed. "Apology accepted. I'm glad." A small hint of a smile touched her lips. "What did you say your name was?"

"Duncan." He said warmly. Courtney nodded.

"Well," she started, stepping slightly closer. "How about we start off on the right foot this time?"

Duncan grinned knowingly, taking in what must have been a hint. He moved to close their distance, so that they were standing not a foot apart. Leaning down, Duncan was sure he had it right this time. "Yeah," he breathed quietly, ruffling several strands of Courtney's hair as he spoke. His instinct was telling him what to do— this must've been what she wanted. It must've been. "Let's start off on the _right foot_."

Unfortunately, Duncan hadn't noticed that she had stepped towards him for a mere handshake; nor the calm, polite tone of her voice and relaxed courtesy of her smile.

But he _did _notice her open palm as it collided cleanly with his jaw.

_**Slap!**_

Courtney swept out of the cabana before the pain even had a chance to rise.

* * *

She was _impossible_.

Duncan had thought he was ready. He had thought, after she had slapped him that first day, he knew her well enough to come up with a way to break her. That after that point, he knew, at least, what _not _to do. But as it turned out, it was pointless even bothering to try. _Everything _he did was wrong; everything he did just made things worse. Duncan tried flirting with her— she wouldn't have it. He would pester her, pining for her attention— she would scoff and try to block him out. He even tried to be _friendly_— but Courtney was too deeply convinced everything he said was a lie for her to even pretend otherwise.

Duncan had had enough of her. He was through trying to break her down— she was too difficult. It was pointless even trying.

And yet…

It wasn't just about getting her to fall for him. It was more than just reckless flirting and suggestive ideas on one side, attempted ignorance and irritation on the other. Somewhere along the way, pursuing Courtney stopped being something Duncan felt he had to do, to prove it to himself that he _could_; it became something else. Something he _wanted_ to do.

His eyes always found her as she moved. He would watch the way she walked, head held high, looking more dignified and stubbornly self-righteous than any other girl that loosely swayed by. And sometimes, on occasional, rare moments, she would walk his way. Shoulders back, her eyes locked onto his with a tempting look that Duncan knew she didn't realize she possessed. Courtney would then stop, push her sunglasses back onto the top of her head, and stare him down without a trace of fear. They would banter —he would win— she would stomp off, towel in clenched fist, and he'd return to work, his mind utterly poisoned by the thought of her.

That was how it was, for a month, before Duncan saw any light at the end of the long, winding tunnel.

"I don't understand how you can think you're getting away with this." She muttered one evening, after the guests had begun making their ways back to the hotel, the orange sun setting off in the distance. Duncan was cleaning up, naturally, around where Courtney had been relaxing.

"With what?" He asked, smiling at the fact that she had spoken to him out of her own will.

Her eyes rolled. "What do you _think_? You've been pestering me every day. Did you honestly think I'm just going to tolerate it? Seriously, I've been thinking about talking to the manager. If you prove much of a problem, your job may be terminated, I hope you realize."

Duncan shrugged, ignoring the malice of her threat. "Doesn't matter. Summer's almost over anyways. Besides, what's making you stay? By all means, leave. I'd be _glad_."

"I would if I could." She mumbled to herself.

"Hmm?" Duncan glanced up from the chair he was folding. "What'd you say?"

Courtney stood and turned away. "Nothing, really. I think I'm going to head in."

Catching her by the arm, he held Courtney back. "No, I want to know."

She held his gaze for a moment, before brushing Duncan off and rolling her eyes once more. "Well, just— I'm not allowed to leave the hotel. My dad wants me to stay here so he knows where I am. See? It's nothing."

Without trying to hold it in, a snicker found its way out. "So, what?" Duncan grinned. "You're on house arrest because your dad's obsessive?"

"_No_." Courtney scowled. "He's just… protective. That's all. He wants me to be safe. Not that you would know what _that's _like."

Duncan smirked, loving the way her eyes seemed to darken when she was angry. "Sounds obsessive to me."

Snatching her bag, Courtney turned her shoulder to Duncan angrily. "Oh, what do you know anyway?"

He laughed. "I know how to _enjoy _myself, at least. How do you survive here? You can't honestly tell me it isn't _killing _you being locked up every day."

"I'm not _locked up_." She protested, though her words lacked a backbone.

"Oh _bull_." Duncan laughed. "You're a modern day Rapunzel."

"I am not!"

"'_Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair!'_" He mimicked cheerfully. Courtney growled in annoyance.

"Oh, shut up!"

Letting his laughter subside, Duncan gave Courtney a slight nudge. "Well, maybe sometime I'll show you a good time. Sneak out in the middle of the night…?" He grinned temptingly. She sneered.

"I don't _think _so." She snapped. "I can think of plenty of things I'd rather do than spend my free time with a smug, infuriating, irresponsible, attractive flirt who hasn't even taken time from his flirting to—"

"You've taken notice, have you?"

It was instinct.

Courtney stopped abruptly. Her eyelashes fluttered, before her eyes went wide. "I didn't— I meant—… I was thinking that you must think I'm… because you keep flirting… and it just— _slipped_…" Her face started to go red, and her jaw simply hung, like a loss for words.

Duncan felt his heart accelerate. Ideas poured into his head: _Laugh! Tease her! Move closer! _But none seemed right. He teetered for a moment, and took the plunge.

"So… you think I'm hot?"

"I did _not_ say that!" She shrieked. "I said you were— and _no_." Courtney swallowed hard and looked him directly in the eye. "Of course not! Why would I? I mean you're— you're—" Her gaze dropped, and she turned, before breaking into a sprint to the building. The back door slammed.

Duncan watched as she left, pulse in his ears. He sunk into a chair, running a hand through his hair, and grinned.

Not because he had made a fool out of her.

Not because he had defied Geoff's odds.

Not even because he had proved to himself that he could make any girl —even someone like Courtney— fall for him.

But simply because she would be his, and soon. No more scheming and pursuing and playing a twisted, messed up game. Just them, together.

And that kept the smile on his face long after his shift had ended.

* * *

"Any luck so far?"

Duncan smiled absently and watched the ripples as they spanned the surface of the pool. "Yeah, I've got this in the bag."

Geoff patted his friend on the back. "Nice, man! How do you know for sure?"

"Because," he started smugly. "You should _see _the way she drools over me, Geoff. Last week… aw, you should've seen the look on her face, dude. Like she couldn't resist. I'm telling you, within the _week_. I guarantee you." It wasn't an entire lie. More of an exaggeration. She probably _was _drooling over him, he just wasn't aware of it. And she was _so close _to falling to pieces. Just one more push, and she'd be in the palm of his hand.

"Wish I was as sure about Bridge." Geoff sighed. "She's been kind of cold on me lately. Says she wants to talk about our _'feelings'_. We're going out to dinner on… uh… it's…what day's the twenty-fourth?" He turned to Duncan.

"It's today."

Geoff suddenly went still. "Wait… what?"

"_Today_"

He shook his head. "No, no. I would've remembered. Today must be the twenty-third."

"No, because was Sunday the twenty-third and I didn't come to work. Today's Monday. Sorry, man."

"No… Oh _crap_."

Duncan glanced up to see Geoff digging into his pocket. He pulled out a slim phone and studied the screen. His eyes bulged.

"Oh, you've got to be _kidding_ me!" He hissed. "Four missed calls!" Geoff hit a button and Bridgette's voice rang out.

"_Hey, Geoff, it's me. I'm at Olive Garden… you had said six o'clock, right? At the Olive Garden on Blossom street? Maybe you're busy… it's six-fifteen right now, so, call me as soon as you get this message. 'Kay, bye."_

"Beep… Message two."

"_Uh, it's me… again. I'm just wondering where you are because, uh, you aren't here and you haven't called and it's been over half an hour. I hope you're alright… I'm a little freaked out right now. Was it for six-thirty, not six? Call me… or text me… something."_

Geoff winced.

"…Message three…"

"_If you're not here in the next ten minutes, I think I'll just go home. The sun is starting to set. I'm wish that— wait, you didn't forget, did you? No… you couldn't have forgotten," _—Geoff looked pained at her words— _"…I really hope nothing went wrong… just… call. Please call. I'm really worried, Geoff."_

"Oh crap. Oh crap."

"…four..."

"_Well I hope you're happy!" _Bridgette snarled. _"I just got home. I'd been calling everyone, trying to figure out where you are. And then Trent tells me that you just took the later shift with Duncan! Unbelievable! I waited for over an hour! I __**worried **__for of an hour! Because you were so careless as to forget all about me! See? This is our problem. We need to talk. __**Now**__."_

"End of messages."

Geoff stared at the phone, eyes widened with horror. He blinked.

"How… how screwed do you think I am?" He whispered.

Duncan could have laughed. "To make _Bridgette _that upset, very. You're seriously screwed."

"Cover for me?" Geoff asked desperately. "I really need to fix this. You can close up without me, right?"

Nodding, Duncan nudged Geoff in the direction of the front gate. "Yeah, yeah. No problem. Go, fix things with your woman."

A miniscule smile settled on Geoff's lips as he turned to leave. "Thanks. I owe you."

"Don't think I won't call in on that." Duncan called as his friend shuffled to leave. He breathed in, and glanced over the area.

The pool had been closed twenty minutes earlier. Duncan had just to lock up the pool cabana and he would be free to leave without incident.

But, now, what fun would that be?

He raced back to the cabana and immediately tossed off his Chucks. Snatching a backpack he had stowed away under a hamper earlier, Duncan pulled out a pair of swimming trunks and quickly changed into them. He grinned to himself and strolled out carelessly. He knew that none of the hotel rooms had windows facing the grounds —the view of the ocean was on the other side— and that the blinds in the lobby had been pulled down for the night.

So no one should mind if he went for a swim, right?

Duncan stood at the edge of the pool, grinning at the eerie dark water as it rippled over itself. The heater and lights had been shut off ten minutes prior, so he couldn't tell how deep it was. The scent of chlorine lingered around Duncan, tempting him to dive. And who was he to resist?

In a swift jump, Duncan launched himself into the pool. A slash echoed, and he had to remind himself that he was to be stealthy, unseen by anyone.

He started on laps, kicking quietly. The water was a tremendous relief after a long day in the hot sun. Duncan closed him eyes on the starless dark sky above and drank in the sound of water moving around him. He exhaled, and lay still.

Until, that is, a voice grasped his attention.

"You're not supposed to be in here, you know."

For a moment, Duncan mentally scowled at himself for the unnecessary, loud dive. But a second later, he grinned.

"Courtney," He greeted her curtly, not opening his eyes.

"Get out." She growled through, as Duncan assumed, gritted teeth. "_Now_."

"And why should I do that?"

She sighed loudly. "Because you're not supposed to be in there. It's against the rules! The pool is to be empty by—"

Eyes now open, Duncan swam to where Courtney stood on the side of the pool and cut her off. "So?"

"_So?_" Courtney glared, the reflection of the waves in her eyes. "There are rules for a reason, Duncan! Besides, you're going to get caught."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes! For your information, there's a security camera on the building. Someone's watching you right now." Courtney crossed her arms importantly, as though waiting for Duncan to take this information to heart. Instead, he smirked.

"Oh, yeah, you mean Jimmy?" Her expression of triumph seemed to wither. "Check your information, babe. Jimmy takes a coffee break at ten fifteen to ten thirty-seven. And what time is it now?"

Her eyes mutely slid over to the clock on the side of the pool cabana wall. "Ten twenty-two." She said with budding disappointment.

"Exactly. I may be 'irresponsible, smug and infuriating'"—he flashed her a smile in place of her fourth adjective—"but I'm no amateur. Believe it or not, I've thought this through."

"Well," Courtney smirked suddenly. "What about me, huh? Do you honestly think I'll let you get away with this?"

"Yeah, actually, I do."

Courtney raised an eyebrow and tilted her head to the side, eyes starting to narrow instinctively. "Oh?"

A shot of adrenaline rushed through Duncan. At the same time, a thought started to pound in his head. _Don't screw up! Don't screw up! _He pressed his palms against the rough concrete edge on the pool and lifted himself to his feet. He looked down at Courtney, and smiled.

"Because, you don't want me to get fired, now do you?"

"Are you kidding?" Courtney laughed, though Duncan could tell that it was somewhat forced. "You being fired would make my day. Maybe I'd be less stressed with you around."

A few comments sprang to Duncan's mind, but he pushed them out quickly. "Then why haven't you done it yet? I'm pretty sure you're an awfully influential person around here, aren't you?"

Courtney pursed her lips and frowned very slightly, eyes focusing unclearly on the ground. "I, well, I mean— there really needs to be a legitimate reason for you to be fired. What with the threat of lawsuits… they're so common when people are laid off… and we'd need to find a replacement on such short notice… and…"

Duncan forced down a grin. Things were going well. Just a little further… "It sounds like you have a different reason for keeping me around."

Her eyes shot up rather quickly and refocused on Duncan's. "I don't know what you're _implying_, but if you want to be fired so badly— then fine. I'll get it over with quickly for you." She brushed by Duncan and started to march towards the building.

So _close_!

Whipping around quickly, Duncan caught the brunette softly by the arm and tugged her back. She yelped and held a glare.

"_What?_"

For a moment, he was at a loss for words. But then, he suddenly noticed something —something small, but still real— glinting in her eyes. Relief.

Deny it as she did, Courtney wanted him there. And knowing this made Duncan choke on his own desire, overrun with wanting. Suddenly, he couldn't care less about his image, about his promise to himself— at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

So, his instinct —as always— directing him, he did.

Courtney's eyelashes fluttered against Duncan skin as she blinked rapidly with shock. She tried to push him off, but his hands held her arms tight, no desire to release. And then, like something suddenly possessed her, Courtney went limp, eyes closing softly. If it wasn't for the added pressure that she returned, Duncan would've assumed that she had fainted in his grip.

He felt his insides burning, every nerve in his body recognizing her, accepting her. Taking her in. Duncan wished he could live in the moment forever, but after one long (yet not long enough) minute, she pulled out.

Lips parted, eyes slightly mystified, Courtney gazed up at Duncan. She held the gaze for a moment, as though she was trying to discover something she had not seen before, an answer of any sort, until her lips softly descended on his once more.

And Duncan forgot it all.

* * *

A magazine had been raised to her eyes, but Duncan knew that she wasn't reading it. For every other minute, it would inch down, revealing her tight stare on him.

Duncan wasn't quite as subtle.

He didn't care who saw him, nor what they thought. He chose to stare openly for the simple reason that he liked to look at her. It reminded him of what had happened the night before, and not for a moment did he want to forget the taste of her lips, the look in her eyes, the smell of her hair…

Of course, it was the fault of Duncan's never-ending stare that caused Courtney to snap up the magazine every time she caught sight of him.

Though, really, it was a fun enough game.

Unfortunately, it ended with Geoff's voice.

"Any progress, dude?"

Duncan turned from Courtney and looked to the back of the cabana, where Geoff was sorting towels.

He nodded. "Yeah, like you wouldn't believe. Last night, after you left, she came out. We started talking, and then…" He grinned blatantly.

Geoff, apparently, didn't quite understand. "And…?"

Rolling his eyes, Duncan filled in the blanks for his less-than-bright friend. "We made out."

A smile lit up his boyish face. "Dude! _Nice! _Wish I had your luck, bro— Bridgette was really pissed off last night. Promised to take her to some fancy restaurant tonight. That was the only thing that worked."

Leaning his back against the counter, Duncan took a moment to admire his skill. "It's not luck, man; you just have to know what to say. Take Courtney for example— she didn't like me at first, right? But all it took was some work and the right words."

A churning feeling settled in Duncan's stomach as though had said something wrong, but he brushed it off as nothing.

"I still don't get how you did it. I mean… it's _Courtney_, of all chicks." Geoff smiled proudly at his friend. Duncan grinned back.

"Look, Courtney's just a woman. And all women are like games. See, you've got to play them to your advantage, you know? Now with this one— she was a hassle. But I just kept at it, and hey— no sweat. Just made sure she was thinking about me all the time, and pressured her until she cracked. It's really an instinctual thing. Just turning the conversation the way I want it to be, so it annoys her and her mind is kept on _me._"

"Huh," Geoff nodded, taking in Duncan's story as though he hadn't taken a simple point too far for the sake of his reputation. "Well, do you like her? Or is this just a summer thing?"

Oh, if only he knew.

Duncan felt his jaw tighten. He cleared his throat, felt it tighten, and breathed out his lies. "Just for the summer. She's pretty spoiled. But like I said, hot. Does anything else really matter?"

Geoff opened his mouth to answer, but the words that came out weren't his.

"No, I guess not."

Duncan turned and saw a panting, angry Courtney. Her face was red, and her eyes pinned Duncan to the spot. He felt everything inside of him collapse, as though he no longer deserved to live.

And right well, at that moment he probably didn't.

"Is that all I am? A spoiled game for you to play this summer?"

"Oh, sh— wait, no, I didn't mean—"

"I know what you meant!" She yelled furiously, but there was pain in her voice. "I heard you! I can't believe I was so _stupid _as to believe that you thought of me as anything other than what you did the day I met you. Like you had _changed_. As if you even _could_."

It wasn't the anger that caused Duncan's heart to wretch— he could have handled anger, he had before. But it was the hurt in her eyes, knowing fully that it was _his _fault. That he was the one who was making her…

_Oh, oh please no— don't tell me, don't tell me she's crying._

But a tear had already streamed down her cheek and fallen mutely on the ground.

She turned, and left.

It had lasted for barely fifteen hours. And already, Duncan had managed to screw it all up.

* * *

Everything seemed to read _'You Suck'._

It was probably paranoia, but it seemed to Duncan that no matter what channel he came across, there always seemed to be something against him.

"…_The problem with teens today…"_

"…_But he was my boyfriend..."_

"…_YOU don't have to be a liar…"_

"…_I can't believe you betrayed me. I trusted you…"_

After the last channel, Duncan decisively turned the television off with a click of the remote and let his head hit the back of the couch.

She hadn't come back. Not yesterday, not the day before. When she had sprinted back to the hotel (He hadn't followed… why hadn't he followed? Should've followed…), he hadn't even considered the idea that she may not return to following day. Duncan had been so used to watching her step out the glass back door, bag in hand, strolling to her usual spot on the other side of the pool that he made no hesitation to plan an apology the following day. But when Courtney wasn't there right away, he started to become curious. Then it was two o'clock, three o'clock, four sixteen— and nothing. Not a word about her, not a glance. But when she wasn't there the next day, nor the next, Duncan truly began to feel the guilt.

Didn't she know that he was just saving face? That, while he may brag to Geoff, he didn't necessarily think about her that way? And what was more— he cared more than she could know. She couldn't —there was no way he would let it happen— know that he spent every minute wanting to hold her, wanting to be near her. And did she know the way he felt his heart race thinking about her, no matter what he said? Or how…

… he wanted to tell her, but couldn't? There really was no way, no _way _she could know about the way she made him feel, what she had done to him. Because, it wasn't like him, wasn't in his nature to hold someone close to his heart. Quick, meaningless flings were what he was used to. No commitment, no sense of loyalty. Just whatever he could get his hands on at the moment. That was part of his reputation. Girls like Courtney, alas, were not. That was just, well, the _rule_.

And Duncan felt a smile —the first true one in days— surface on his lips as the thought processed in his mind.

Because, of course—

—rules were _meant _to be broken.

* * *

Thank God for Jimmy.

"I really, really hate doing this, Duncan." The man sighed as he rifled through files on the computer. "I really, really do."

"C'mon, Jim— you know why I've got to get to Courtney's room."

The bulky security guard smiled slightly. "Yeah, it _is_ a nice story. Really romantic."

Duncan rolled his eyes at the word. "It's touching. So what room's she in?"

"Uh," Jimmy's eyes narrowed as he searched the screen. "I could get in a lot of trouble for doing this, you know. I could get— here. Room… forty-nine, eighteenth floor. You know Duncan," he tapped a button on the keyboard and the screen went blank. "I always thought you two looked good together. I don't know, maybe it's because of your heights or—"

"Thanks, Jimmy." Duncan said, patting his friend on a thick shoulder. "I've got to go— but I'll take you out for a cup of coffee sometime, okay? My treat." He grinned and rushed to the elevator, tapping the upward arrow. The doors parted after a moment, and Duncan hurried inside, stabbing a button to the eighteenth floor. The doors pressed shut, and Duncan felt his stomach jolt slightly as the elevator started to rise.

Funny, how everything had been moving so swift and quick, only to be stopped abruptly by an elevator ride.

The elevator made a precise _ding _noise at each floor it passed, accompanied by only the faint sounds of classical music in the background. Duncan tapped his foot impatiently.

_Ding._

_Ding._

_Ding._

Finally, after what Duncan considered a ridiculously long wait, the doors parted on floor eighteen. He stepped through and hurried down a hall, not aware of where he was going— nor what exactly he was doing. And though it didn't occur to him at the time, he should have thought things through, instead of acting on impulse.

But, then, when did Duncan _not _act on impulse?

Not that it mattered, since he ended outside of room forty-nine all the same. He raised his arm to knock and—

Hesitated.

What had he gotten himself into with this girl?

Nonetheless, Duncan pounded on the door. Maybe a little too loudly, maybe a little too long. Courtney's annoyed face nearly collided with his fist as the door flung open. Her eyes widened, before narrowing in a glare.

"_What?_" She seethed. But no matter the expression she wore, Duncan couldn't deny the fact that, well, he was simply happy to see her. It made him more determined— yet, he couldn't find the words.

It was Courtney opening the door that hushed Duncan's adrenaline. It was her scowl at his arrival that silenced his excitement. But it was her hissing tone that cut the words off in his throat. So he stood, so stupidly, and waited for someone to speak up for him. Unfortunately, no one did.

"Courtney."

There, see? Progress already. She'd forgive him, no doubt. Just a minute, it wouldn't be hard. Real easy. Simplistic. _Unproblematic. _Though, the glower didn't soften. Nor lighten. Nor change shape. It didn't turn into a beaming smile, a laugh spreading to the rest of her, forcing her to toss his arms around him and resume where they'd left off the other night. In fact, in nearly seemed to be getting _worse_.

Naïve much?

But it wasn't hopeless. This would be just like how he had stopped her hating him the first time. A little bit of work and—

"I'm sorry. I was a jerk. You're _not _just a game." Courtney had a look that plainly said— _I'm seriously not buying this crap. _So, Duncan tried something else. He leaned closer and whispered tenderly, instinctively, in her ear. "You're _my _game."

That, apparently, was exactly the _wrong _thing to say.

Courtney stepped back and snatched the door handle. Duncan jumped and only barely stopped the door with his foot before it had collided with his skull.

"_Jeez! _What are you trying to do? Break my frickin' head?" He yelped, trying to pry the door open.

"_Yes!_" Courtney snapped, putting her entire weight on the door, trying to get it to close. "So you'll leave!"

"Oh come on!" Duncan sighed, a note of desperation that he had been specifically avoiding creeping into his voice. "You can't still be pissed off!"

"I believe I _can_!" She yelled without restraint. "Do you even get it? Don't you know I'm not utterly _stupid_? I heard what you said, I know what you are! A lying jerk that I want nothing to do with!"

"I didn't lie!" He protested before the thought registered with him. "I swear that I didn't! It's just that I told Geoff that I could… you know… and then I really started to, uh… well, I mean…"

Duncan felt the door slide out from behind him, Courtney's face slipping into view. Her expression was unreadable.

"Prove it."

His forehead creased. "What?"

"Be honest for once. I'm sick of all the wordplay, Duncan. Just be _honest_ with me."

To anyone else, the request was simple. But for Duncan, it wasn't quite so easy. Being honest meant— well, being honest. And that was a little too much for him, a little too much to give. It wasn't that he wasn't willing to do nearly anything to get her back— it was just, he didn't want anyone to know.

But the hesitation said enough. The door slammed sharply.

Duncan scowled at himself. Why couldn't she just let it go already? He'd been exaggerating for Geoff, obviously. It wasn't a big deal. It really wasn't.

But the lie was too pathetic for Duncan to convince even himself. He'd been a jerk, and he knew it. Really, he deserved to have a door slammed in his face, deserved her infuriation. It'd been pretty low of him, and no amount of self-deceit would change that. Truthfully, he was worthy of anything Courtney could dish out. And why? Because his stupid ego and reputation had gotten in the way. And now it was ruined, his chances crushed as they rightfully deserved to be. Maybe, maybe he should have just given up. It would certainly make things easier.

He sighed and slouched against the door, slowly slipping down to the ground.

Yeah, giving up sounded good. No more worrying about what state his relationship was in. Casual hook-ups were fine, really. He didn't need anything more. Commitment didn't suit him, anyway. He didn't want to be attached to one girl at a time. Besides, Duncan could deal without her, and he'd be fine. No problem at all. It was fine, just fine.

Yet no matter how hard he tried, the lies would not stick.

* * *

"Ugh…"

It took several minutes for Duncan to realize why he was so uncomfortable. As it turned out, he was still outside Courtney's room, sitting upright against the hard hotel room door. It took another long minute to recall what had happened the previous night.

He'd concluded that he was over her, that he didn't need her. That he wasn't a 'relationship' type of guy anyway.

In the foggy midst of awakening, Duncan found himself not understanding.

"Why not…? I could be. I could be a boyfriend. 'Cept she's pissed…"

Duncan stood groggily to his feet, stretching from the awkward position, and wiped sleep from his eyes. Stumbling over his feet, Duncan fumbled down the hall to the elevator and clicked the button. There was no point in waiting, it was over. All over.

The doors parted, and he tumbled inside. His fingers were hesitating over the numbered buttons when a word burst into his mind like daylight.

_Wimp!_

Suddenly, Duncan felt more alert. The word echoed.

_Wimp!_

The doors began to close, and he jumped to block them with his elbow. More words pounded in his mind.

_Go back there and get your woman! Don't be a wimp!_

It's not that simple…

_Yeah, it is… you moron._

When suddenly, it occurred to him. What was he doing? Leaving? Without even giving it a shot?

Courtney wanted the truth. And Duncan, like _hell_, would give it to her. She was worth that much.

He jumped back into the hall and sprinted to Courtney's room, reaching out to slam his fist on the door. He struck the door continuously until it finally opened.

She came out, dressed in her pyjamas and a cotton robe. Slippers were on her feet, but Duncan could've have cared less.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded, her eyes instantly focusing on his in what seemed to be her usual glare. "I told you to leave and— it's seven thirty in the morning."

"I know," Duncan said quickly, though he hadn't. "I fell asleep outside your door."

"What—?"

"Forget about that. Look, I know I shouldn't have—"

"I'm not listening to this." Courtney snapped determinedly. "I'm so unbelievably _sick _of you. Just get over it! I'm sure you have _plenty _of other girls waiting for you, ones that don't really care if you're just playing them."

Duncan breathed in deeply, and let the words go like an untied balloon, whizzing around with no sense of control.

"I'm sorry. I was incredibly stupid, I know. I said those things because that's what I wanted Geoff to believe was the truth— but it's _not_. I'm not playing you; God knows I want this to last longer than just the summer. And you're so much more to me than that… I mean, that's what you were at first, before everything else, but I didn't _know _you then! I thought you were some spoiled rich girl… and that first day… you were never what I expected. I won't lie, it was just about getting you to begin with, I just wanted to prove that I _could_ get a girl like you… which was wrong. But I didn't know how crazy I would become about you. You make my head spin, Courtney!"

Her grip on the side of the door started to slide.

"But I didn't _want _to like you… I wasn't _supposed_ to fall for you. But then I did… and got screwed up… and then I had my reputation to live up to— so I acted shitty and said things I didn't— _don't _mean. It was instinct… I haven't done this before. I haven't ever wanted a girl so _bad_ before. And after that one night— I knewfor sure, I knew it was more than just some summer fling. And, and— I act like I don't care, but I _do_. You've got to be feeling this too, I _know _you are. There's no way you _couldn't_ be. We just… just… _work._ And— you aren't like other chicks, you're just— just— frickin' _amazing_, and you don't even _realize_… you don't have any clue what you're doing to me. Do you even know how desperate I have to be to say this? You're just… just… and… and…"

The breath suddenly whooshed from his lungs, and he leaned on the doorframe for support. Duncan swallowed, and, looking at the expression on Courtney's face, had no idea what to think. Because, frankly, she looked as though she'd been hit by a train.

"So, uh… yeah. That's it." He muttered, feeling his cheeks go hot. What had he done? If she rejected him after this— Duncan wasn't sure he would ever regain his pride.

Her voice was no more than a tiny squeak.

"Very."

Duncan sighed. "What?"

Courtney's shoulders slumped. Her arm dropped to her side. "Desperate." She had a clear look in her eye. "Very… desperate."

And she rushed forward, and pressed her lips to his.

His warm cheeks burned at the touch.

_Hallway. Courtney. Kiss._

The thought was too pleasing to comprehend. And though his mind was cloudy with the rate that everything was happening, Duncan knew enough to lean closer, to weave his fingers through soft strands of hair, to press harder— to value the kiss as it was.

He supposed it was instinct.

* * *

"Hi, could I get a towel?"

The words, though the same, had been so different when they came from Courtney.

Duncan nodded, his eyes refusing to peel away from his girlfriend (he had learned to truly appreciate the word) to the blonde in front of him. He leaned to the side slightly, snatched a towel from underneath, and dropped it on the counter. He could see the girl give him a bright smile, stupidly unaware that he was gazing hungrily at Courtney from across the pool. She was attractive, sure, but not in comparison.

"So…" She mused, leaning her elbows on the counter towards Duncan. "Are you working here all year?"

Courtney's eyes slid over to the blonde. She scanned her with a gaze, and scowled darkly. Then she glanced back to Duncan and narrowed her eyes, as if to warn him. He laughed and watched Courtney as she slowly crossed her arms and began to tap her foot with impatience. Duncan could feel the heat of her possessiveness from where he stood, and couldn't suppress a grin.

There was an alarm clock in his mind, waiting for the shift to end. Because after that— who knew? Who cared? Courtney was involved, and nothing else was really all that important. Because as it had occurred to him every day since the first, as it occurred to him every time their eyes met, it occurred to him then. Nothing —not his appearance, not Geoff, not his _stupid_ reputation—mattered more than she did. Why it had taken over a month to realize this, Duncan didn't know. What he _did_ know was that there hadn't been any true limits in the first place, but only the ones he set for himself. So yeah, he was willing to go to the ends of the earth to keep her, even if it meant admitting his feelings along the way.

She had ceased to stop fuming. Yet somehow, Duncan found himself adoring it— the way her nose crinkled, her fists clenched, her eyes as they sparked with annoyance…

"Yeah, yeah. I think I am."

* * *

**Aw, don't you love it when he gets all mushy?**

**I am so, so, SO sorry for the long wait. I had no computer for the majority of the summer (ours crashed). But I got a laptop, so there should be no excuse for late updates. At least, I hope there aren't.**

**But, really. Do you like mushy? The last chapter had to do with Duncan and his quote unquote 'feelings' as well. Do you guys like Duncan when he's forced to show his softer side? Or do you want it to be Courtney who has trouble? I'm trying to get a lot of variety, which it why I liked this idea since it's set a hotel, which is new. So tell me what you want— first or second person, Duncan or Courtney's point of view? More or less drama? AU or not? Or do you just want to be surprised? Tell me what you like— I'd really appreciate it!**

**By the way, the 'Turion' hotel isn't real. I had to come up with a name, so I stole one off of the sticker on my laptop (**_**Turion X2 **_**It's not mine… I just realized it's trademarked**_**)**_**. Just a bit of useless information for you to chew on! And, heh, this is the longest thing I've ever posted on FanFiction.**

**Yeah, so, I've started school. I don't know what homework will be like this year, but updates should be regular. I have a new story it the works (aka my head) so I'm reeeally excited to start on that. Though I think I might want to finish Never Again first.**

**Lastly, thank you to everyone who reviewed this story. I was shocked at how many people took the time to write a review for it— I **_**still **_**am. I'm hoping (fingers crossed!) to get up to 100 reviews with this chapter. So review if you like it! Hope this brings back (sigh…) memories of summer gone by. Oh, I miss it already.**


	6. Realizing

***

It was a type of magnetism that nudged her closer, some kind of attraction. It was an invisible force, of sorts, that drew out the desire from deep within, that sprang forth the want. Her mind was rarely as cloudy and weak as it was just then, so distant and foreign that she could barely comprehend her own thoughts.

Though, to be fair, it was more than an unidentifiable pull that caused her half-lidded eyes to drown in lust and confusion. His breath warming her lips, so temptingly, _certainly_ was to blame. His hand, as it curled around hers possessively, _must_ have contributed to the fluttering of her heart. And the look, evidently similar to her own, that his eyes absorbed so plainly, so openly, _had _to have been a factor. It made well enough sense, anyway.

But when their lips actually connected, when they finally, _finally _met, the burning feeling that dwelled in the pit of her stomach inflamed.

The book that had been resting in the crook of her elbow clattered against the rough surface of the stone patio, the sound stifled by snow.

Her other hand entwined with his, cheeks reddening with heat. The pressure was becoming immense, the passion building. She felt as though she could have exploded from the pleasure.

Courtney closed her eyes fully, and drank in the sensation.

* * *

The morning after.

An odd thought, since the epilogue is never a focal point.

It's the one moment of magnificence that attracts an audience. The single moment where everything is right, everything is perfect. Beyond that, no one cares. No one wants to see how the Princess lived after her fairy-tale wedding. No one wants to hear about the marital problems, the stresses, the aggravation. What they want, what everyone wants, is a clean, pleasant little 'happily-ever-after'. Because when you hear that suddenly, everything isn't quite right, that everything isn't quite so happy and perfect, you cast doubt on your own happy ending. If Cinderella can't make it, then who can? Surely, there's no hope for anyone else. The whole concept of love is futile, if it will only end in ruins.

Courtney stroked her cheek thoughtfully, holding onto the gaze of her reflection.

There had been something real, no doubt. What she had felt was _certainly_ more than just the effect of reckless teenage ambition for lust. It'd been true, it'd been honest. Not that it changed who she was.

Higher, _better_. Worth so much more.

They weren't her thoughts alone, though, they were those of the society. They were the _rules_. And she had no choice but to abide by them.

Because it was a jail cell, she knew. No matter how lavish and rich its furnishings were, how warm and tempting, elegant and extravagant it might be, she still lived within a cell. There were still barred walls that closed in around her, tightening until she had suffered under her peer's scrutiny to the fullest extent.

And though the flurry of dresses and tailcoats were pretty in another's perspective, the reality was truly quite ugly.

Judgment had its own seat at the dinner table, as it narrowed its eyes on weaknesses, flaws that had gone unchecked. Mistakes that should never have been made were clear in its keen sight, nothing went unnoticed.

So it had been, so it was. And she loved it.

You would think living in a straightjacket would be horrible, unbearable. Indisputably, it _was_—unless, that is, you were good at it.

And such was Courtney's life.

She was the one peering over opera glasses and curling her lips into slow, endearing little smiles. She was the one who kept an eye sharp, improvement the first and only thought on her mind. Her own success came before anything else, her own small rivalries filling tedious daily activities. The need to succeed, to be the _best_— it was always there. It was always a part of her, this scheming life that consumed her. Seventeen flawless, bright years it had been, until her perfect little world experienced a quake.

No doubt, it was sudden. No doubt, it was unsuspected. Yet so subtle, so sneaky, she couldn't have seen the changes right away, couldn't have detected them. And somehow, it managed to break her down.

_He _managed to break her down. That boy, that stupid, _filthy_ boy.

It'd started out as nothing, his little quips and smirks as he snapped the reins of her carriage. She should've noticed his interest immediately, thinking back now, it'd been so _obvious_. His hand and the way it lingered slightly as he helped her down after a ride through the park, the way he drove a bit too quickly, as if to gain her annoyance— her attention. He seemed to have no consideration for the fact that it was far out of his place. He didn't seem to care.

Though she noticed its escalation, no doubt. What had once been inappropriate, loitering gazes and knowing half-smiles, as though he could read her like a newspaper, rose to bolder advances. Letting her slip on the carriage step, only to catch her by the waist, something one would consider an innocent act of kindness. Courtney knew better. Whispers of desire that no one but she caught, promises of lips and hands and heat. Duncan's fingers brushing by the soft fabric of her dress, as if to tempt her. There were quiet little ideas that he could suggest without a word, but conveyed with lust that lingered in the depth of his eyes.

As it was her duty as an honorable lady, Courtney managed to look past these flirtations. She wouldn't dare stoop to his level, she wouldn't _dream _of it. She had no business with the likes of him, none at all.

Yet…

His eyes were such a passionate blue, they held hers with such intent. And his arms were strong with experience, not due to of use of an engraved gold fountain pen like all of the indulged, primped boys she danced with, but as a result of true, hard labor. He'd seem the world, he'd served it. He was part of it. While Courtney, in contrast, had barely experienced a taste. And though she hated it, despised it, tried to rid herself of it, there was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to understand him. Part of her held this undeniable need, this _thirst _to discover him, to be with him.

And that was exactly what she got.

She'd been reading in the garden, soaking in what warmth the winter sun still had to offer as it hung low in the hazy pink sky, a lit candle perched at her side, when she heard the crunching of slush and ice from before her. She'd raised her eyes, met his, noticed the cold flush in the apples of his cheek, the red of his lips from the wind, his clenched, determined fists. She'd taken in the hunger that consumed his well-sculpted features, knowing he wouldn't stop, wouldn't wait— …and…

Courtney felt herself waver slightly at the memory. The brightness of his eyes… the obvious strength of his jaw… and the kiss—

A quick shake of her head pushed the recollection of her thoughts. Why was she reminiscing? She regretted her actions, didn't she? Of course, if anyone were to find out, it would be the end of her. No inheritance, no future. No _life._

Not to mention what people would think, what they'd say. She could hear the gossip already. _Kissing her driver… disgraceful… I always thought she was such a nice girl, well brought up… just goes to show…_

But tonight she would put it all behind her, and move on. No more. It ended _here._

"Your mother calls for you,"

Blinking out of the midst of thought, Courtney bowed her head, signaling the maid to leave. She glanced into her mirror, looking over the extravagance of her up-do and the glamour of the pearls at her neck. Her eyes travelled down the pastel pink silk of her full dress, with its carefully detailed elegance, and down to the curved point of her slippers. Pulling the top of the ivory gloves that hid her forearms so they were clean and straight, she rose to her feet and left the comfort of her room, pressing a smile to her lips. She met her mother at the top of the grand staircase, clasped her fingers against the skirt of her dress, and held her breath.

Dark eyes ran up the length of her body with scrutiny, and Courtney rolled her shoulders back instinctively. Her mother pursed her lips, and moved to fix a strand of tousled hair out of her daughter's eyes. Satisfied, the woman turned away.

"Lovely," she said coolly, a sign of her approval. Placing a slender hand on the banister, she relaxed her shoulders and settled into a state of true, honest grace. Following the lead of her mother, Courtney moved in time, descending down the glossy staircase, one small step at a time. The marble clicked beneath the heels of her shoes.

The Great Hall was littered with the finest aristocrats London had to offer. It was mesmerizing, the way the collection of socialites seemed to glisten under the warm light of the crystal chandelier that hung impressively from the high ceiling of the room. Courtney's eyes grazed the intricate detailing of the wallpaper, sliding over one clever painting to the next. Ornate sculptures and freshly-cut flowers filled the room with extravagance, with warm hues of gold and red and royal blue that proposed a firm sense of self-importance. Every corner was lavishly furnished, every nook exaggerated with luxuries one couldn't help but admire wholeheartedly. At any rate, her family found no limit in proudly boasting their wealth. No one did.

"_Miss Hughes—_there you are. Now, let me have a look at you."

Courtney felt her hands being embraced by those of a middle-aged, stout woman with hair that was obviously beginning to gray. The woman must have been of some relation to her, a distant cousin of sorts, so at the bottom step she smiled charmingly and straightened her back.

"My, what an exquisite, acceptable lady you've become. I remember you as a child, so well-mannered, so polite…" The lady smiled, the red of her lips stretching into her full cheeks. After an acutely timed moment, she let go of Courtney's fingers and turned her round face to her mother. "And Grace, dear." She directed the warm smile to Mrs. Hughes, who stood with one hand clasped on her daughter's shoulder.

"Amelia, it has been too long," she purred, the words coated sweetly. But Courtney picked up on the undertone, the hidden meaning. Her mother's friend, however, did not notice the subtleties.

"You _must _come for tea one day soon. I've missed your company, Grace. Truly I have."

And Mrs. Hughes nodded with a smile, falsely promising her attendance. Of course, of _course_ she would come for tea. She would love to. There was nothing she would rather do than spend the day with her —_overeager, wearisome, pathetically hopeless, glutinous excuse for a— _dear old friend. It would be sheer _delight_.

Feeling a nudge from her mother's hand after several minutes of conversing, Courtney knew it was time for her to leave. She batted her eyelashes sweetly and stepped to the side. "It has been wonderful seeing you once more, Misses Thorne— I wish I could stay to speak with you for longer, but there are so many guests to be greeted, as you know." With an approving nod from her mother's friend, Courtney slid from the chatter of the two women and mixed into the throng of people.

Snippets of gossip reached her ears. Nasty, _horrid_ things that shouldn't have been muttered above a whisper, things that should have been kept hush-hush. But London did not know secrets. It knew things that caused knowing smirks, giggles that rose above the den. It knew of small impurities, little shameful incidents that, in time, would wither away. But Courtney knew her secret was desired, that it was wanted. Such a secret could ruin her, if it was ever found out.

But no— _no. _No one would ever know. It couldn't, would _not _happen. Courtney had just to keep quiet, she had to keep it locked up. Besides, the only other person who knew was—

A feeling of nausea passed through her. Oh, God. Oh, oh, oh_ no. _He could… _would… _and he… oh, damn…

There was no _way_, no force on earth that would make her let him breath a word of it. She would stop any of his intentions in their tracks. If anyone found out— she didn't even want to think about it. No, it wouldn't happen. She wouldn't allow it.

Courtney relaxed her tense shoulders, and exhaled slowly. With a dainty —though forced— smile, she weaved through the crowd, slipping into the back hallway. She hurried, escaping through the kitchen and out into the back garden. It was unoccupied, though, and for a moment Courtney wondered exactly what she'd been thinking. A consequence of her impulsiveness came in the form of a gust of cool wind that slapped the side of her face suddenly, extracting a loud yelp of discomfort.

"Careful, it's rather windy."

Her ears pricked the voice from behind. Had she been followed?

Feeling her cheeks warm with embarrassment, Courtney turned to the sound. She was about to apologize, when she caught sight of the voice's owner.

"_You—_"

Standing there, with a smug little grin and glinting blue eyes, Courtney could not help but loathe him. Her anger rose, and for the first time so far that night, she couldn't have cared less about how she looked.

Her lips were already parted and ready to scold him, to tell him off, when Duncan turned his shoulder and started towards the house.

"_Excuse me! _I'd like a word with you! Don't turn your back on—"

A clever look met her. "Yes, well, if you're going to yell at me, I'd rather you do it in indoors. But by all means, stay out in the cold."

Courtney's mouth hung open for a moment, before she closed it and picked up her skirts to head for the door. She gave him a look of fiery dislike, and stepped into the garage where they kept their summer carriages. It was empty, save the coaches, of course, and so Courtney didn't hesitate to raise her voice.

"Last night never happened. It never occurred. And I'd like it very much if it was forgotten. What you did was unacceptable, and you should know that your job is hanging by a _thread._"

She waited for him to quiver, to admit defeat— _something_. But he smiled at her, a true smile, and sauntered over to a stagecoach to pull open the door and climb inside. Growling, Courtney crossed her arms and stomped over to his side. "You shouldn't be in there," she told him, despising the way he lazily spread himself across the red velvet.

Giving her a challenging look, he shifted slightly, and nodded to the empty space beside him, a space just large enough for her. "Come, sit."

Cheeks now burning at the request, both from anger and the inappropriate pass, she shook her head and gripped the slim door handle, leaning closer. "No. Now, come out and—"

Duncan slid over even more, and offered the spot again. "Sit. We'll talk."

The desire to rip the calm expression out of him was strong. "You are _insufferable._" She spat, unwillingly climbing into the vehicle as well. It was a feat to get the bustle of her skirts through the small door, but she finally managed to clamber in. She collapsed beside him, gloves now wrinkled and messy from the effort, and gripped onto her pride. "Now, I don't believe I was in the correct mindset last night, and you were wrong to have—"

But she was cut off as Duncan's hand slid up to hold the side of her jaw tenderly. Her brow furrowed at the touch.

Though, it was a rather nice touch…

"Duncan, stop—"

He didn't let go. His thumb slid roughly across her lower lip, and his eyes attached to hers.

It sent a rush down her spine.

And the sincerity in his eyes was gripping at her, something she couldn't ignore. Honesty was rare for her, and seeing it so plainly before her—

Oh, this was wrong…

"Why do you do it?" He asked, with little concern for her virtue.

"What?" She mumbled, eyes blinking fearfully. What was he doing to her? Her mind was screaming, thrashing and yelling to tear away. But she couldn't. She was captivated. By his touch, by his voice, by the scent of him that was surely lingering on her now. She was starting feeling lost once more.

He moved towards her, letting their noses brush. "Why do you let them have you? Why do you give them what they want?"

His lips travelled to the spot below her ear. The feeling ran through Courtney, and she breathed in sharply. Her skin tingled. His breath wrapped her in a sudden warmth as he spoke. "You're different, I know it. You want things your own way… you don't need to follow their rules, Courtney…"

So… _so _wrong…

She gave a helpless little gasp, lids heavy. The way her name sounded from his lips, right in her ear, slow and thoughtful… as though only he knew how to say it…

Goosebumps pricked along her arms.

His fingers ran along the side of her face tenderly. "You could get away. You could leave all of this, you know."

Duncan's lips travelled across her cheek, finally meeting hers. His eyes were open only a sliver, still watching her, as he pressed his lips down with slight force. It made Courtney's racing heart accelerate.

Wrong, so _unbelievably_ wrong…

"I can give it to you… I can take you away from this… I can show you what it's like… I can teach you…" He whispered, promises between kisses, feeding the temptation. "Would you live like that? Would you be with me always, Miss Hughes? I can show you…"

Yes… she wanted to be with him… she couldn't begin to imagine not kissing him, not being overwhelmed. Not being able to enjoy the feel of his lips on hers, his breath on her skin…

…his hand, as it slid up higher and higher on her waist—

"Oh!" She exclaimed in a shriek, fully realizing what was going on. Courtney flailed her arms, painfully slamming her side against the wall of the carriage as she hastily scrambled out.

No! This wasn't supposed to happen! No! No! _No! _

What had she done? Oh— oh— oh, _God_! What a mess she was… this all was. She was supposed to fix it… _fix _it. Yet it was worse— so, _so_ much worse…

"Courtney!"

She had a firm grip on the brass knob, ready to pull open the door and flee, when her other hand was caught.

"No, don't, I—"

But she yanked her arm away and ripped open the door to race out back into the cold. If only she could escape, escape it all. If she could only get away—

"_Wait,_"

She felt another gust of wind slam against her entire body, numbing it. But it did nothing to soften the feeling.

And her eyes, confused and upset, met Duncan's. He stepped forward, clinging to the door, which was threatening to close, and looked at her firmly. There was strong, determined look that crossed his features.

"What I told you… I meant it. I _mean_ it. I'll take you away from all of this."

Courtney's eyes began to water from the wind. She felt her heart rise in her throat, every single part of her crying out.

"I know."

* * *

Her shoulders stayed glued to the back of the chair, listening to the chatter that swarmed around her over the clinking of polished silverware and crystal glasses. And though she was smiling pleasantly, she felt anything but.

How could she have been in so deep without knowing it? How could he feel so intensely about her? How, oh _how_ could such a problem arise for her? She'd worked every moment being the best she could, being proper, being what she was _supposed_ to be— only to have her world ripped apart by the one thing she should've known to avoid.

"Miss Hughes? Miss Hughes— are you quite alright?"

Feeling a soft tap on her shoulder, Courtney reconnected to the scene and looked to her right. Her eyes caught Charles Herrington's, and she met the curious, almost worried gaze with a reassuring smile.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine. Thank you for your concern, Mr. Herrington." She managed, though she did not feel fine at all. Her mind was too crowded with fret and the chastising of her wrong-doings. "I'm just a bit tired, that is all. The cooler weather has disrupted my sleeping pattern, I'm afraid." The lie slipped easily, as such was her nature. Though she tried not to think of it as fibbing— it was merely her attempt at easing the worrying of her peers. Or at least, it sounded better that way. She certainly did not keep her secrets for the sole benefits of one Charles Herrington. Though, as her mother would cleverly point out, such a handsome face didn't deserve to be lined with pity.

This didn't pass by Charles as well as Courtney would have hoped. He smiled, somewhat secretively, and leaned a bit closer. "If you're bored with all of this petty small talk, I certainly don't blame you." And then he rested his hand on her forearm, rather lightly— though she still registered the gesture acutely. "I can tell that you're troubled by something more exciting than the quality of china and the ever-changing styles of petticoats these days. Tell me, what _is_ running around that pretty head of yours?"

And though she knew what he was trying to do, the better part of her told her to blush as though she was flattered by the comment. "Why," she began coyly, looking down as though her heart was fluttering, which it wasn't. "You shouldn't be too bold with me, Mr. Herrington. It would be most unseemly."

Out of the corner of her downcast eyes, Courtney caught a glimpse of her mother, who was watching her intently. The piercing gaze, not the slightest bit softened by distance, made her skin a degree warmer.

"Unseemly?" He mused, straightening back into his chair. "Quite so, I'd think. Though I must give you the credit you deserve, Miss Hughes. There is a certain virtue about you, something I have no idea how you retain, considering," here he paused, letting his eyes follow the contours of her face. His lips broke into another smile. "Well, considering _you._"

Letting another blush spread over her cheeks, Courtney let her lips part slightly, as though she was scandalized by his words. "Oh, you shouldn't be saying such things."

But really, she wished he wasn't. Flirting was fine, of course, it was expected to uphold a reputation of any sort— but that wasn't it.

Because though Charles' smile was charming and his words sounded like something that would send waves through any of the silly girls sitting at the table, she knew that it was a game. She was being played, like she had played so many others, like she had been played so many times. It was all one awful game. Sick and twisted, a game she knew, a game to which she was intensely accustomed.

No, it wasn't a game— it was merely her life.

How prestigious it had seemed not an hour ago, when things weren't quite as complicated, to how disgusting it seemed now. Compared to the rough reality and honesty of, well, Duncan and all she had to do with him, her social life seemed a lie.

Oh, well, of courseit was all deceit, she'd always known _that_. But up until that point, it had been a lie she could live with. Until then— it'd been just _fine_. Yet getting a taste —both literally and not, she noted regrettably— of something intoxicatingly real had changed her perspective. But still, in the end, Courtney found that what she wanted was as unclear as ever.

_I can take you away from this…_

But it was her life, it was everything she knew. And not to mention, what would they do? Where would they go? How could they—

No, no. There was no point in working out the fundamentals. There was no point in dwelling on the proposition, either. She shouldn't give the idea a second thought. It was silly, and with the next moment Courtney had to spare, she would tell Duncan so. And then, she would fire him. End it all.

Her stomach lurched at the thought.

Well, she would put an end to it without firing him. Going to that extent wasn't necessary, of course. Right.

_Would you be with me always, Miss Hughes? I can show you…_

"Oh," a sigh of longing fell from Courtney's lips, and for a moment, she wanted nothing more than to be a different girl. Another girl, one that didn't have to live with relentless expectations. One that didn't have to ignore her feelings for the honor of her family, didn't have to bow her head obediently. A girl that could follow her heart, decide her own future.

Wait, what was she _saying? _These weren't her thoughts, they couldn't _possibly_ have been. How could she want anything other than what she had? There were a dozen maids attending to her, a closet full of custom gowns, more than a handful of suitors, and, most importantly, an unblemished reputation. Courtney was well-respected and well-liked, so why was she unhappy? Anything and everything was beneath her fingertips, so what was there to complain about? She lived a life that any other girl, even her peers, would kill for. So why was she so… unsatisfied?

Courtney heard a voice in her ear.

"Miss Hughes… you haven't answered my question."

"Hmm?" She responded faintly, having drifted in her own thoughts and missed whatever Charles had been saying. Not that, as Courtney realized dimly, she really cared anymore.

His hand was resting on her forearm still, but the grip was a slight bit tighter. "Would you honor me with a dance this evening, if your card bears an empty space still?"

For a moment, her mind wandered again. Would Duncan make a good dancer, she wondered?

A smile spiked the corners of her lips.

No, she supposed not.

"That settles it, then." Charles said with a wide grin, misinterpreting her little smirk, "we'll dance a waltz, then? Though, I cannot say that my talent will quite match yours."

Duncan wouldn't know the steps, for certain. Nor where his hand would rest on her back, either. Perhaps he'd hold her far closer than he should; perhaps he'd look into her eyes far too intensely. Perhaps he wouldn't understand how scandalous it would be if he kissed her as they swayed…

The small smile had broadened.

"Oh, well, all the better…"

* * *

Goddamn liar.

Charles had a natural rhythm and posture that rivaled any man in the room. He led Courtney, light as a feather, across the marble with ease and abnormal grace. She pointed this out to him.

"You must bring it out of me, Miss Hughes." He told her proudly.

The obvious lie made her want to vomit with distaste, but she managed to hold it in. Instead, she let her head bow slightly with modesty.

"Mr. Herrington…"

Courtney decided she might as well let the comment slip by as though she was too dense to realize what he'd planned to do. Of course, he'd thought to ask her to dance, saying he was talentless, only to claim that she had 'brought it out of him'. Yes, because she wasn't intelligent enough to figure _that _out.

But as she had been told by her mother, a man never wants to feel inferior to his wife. Men always want to consider themselves as the wittier sex. She also, rather faintly, recalled the ironic undertone of Mrs. Hughes words.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Mr. Herrington?"

"Please, call me Charles."

"_Charles_," she started again, treating the word as though it were forbidden fruit. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

At this, he looked at her, as though there were more to what he was saying. "Yes, I must say, I am." Pulling back slightly, he inspected her softly. "Have I mentioned how radiant you are this evening?"

She had been doing her best to stay intact with their conversation, but she kept wandering off with thought. One moment, she would see Duncan in Charles' place, smiling down at her brashly. The next, he would be winking at her from across the floor. And then he would be pulling her out of the ballroom, down the hall, to do things they shouldn't…

A laugh from her partner was all it took for her to return to earth and realize what she had subconsciously been daydreaming about. Her face would flush red, and she'd force a laugh, averting her eyes as though they could be read.

The music stopped, and Courtney let her arms rest by her sides. Giving a little curtsey, she smiled and thanked Charles for the dance, before gliding off the floor in a quick clip. Mrs. Hughes was by her in a moment.

"You'd best not walk so fast. We wouldn't want someone to be injured as a result of your recklessness."

Pressing her lips together, Courtney dropped her gaze to the floor and nodded once. "Yes. Of course."

Though her mother wasn't awfully disappointed with her, she noticed. There was a certain calmness about her, and Courtney could not help but inwardly cringe at what her mother must have been thinking.

"Mr. Herrington certainly is charming." She mused, but not without purpose. "Did he seem to take a liking to you?"

"Yes, I suppose so. He did say I looked radiant."

"Oh?" Mrs. Hughes raised an eyebrow at this, before letting her eyes settled back on the crowd of dancers, who were beginning a polka. "Was that all?"

It was here that Courtney hesitated. If her mother knew how much Charles had enjoyed her company— well, it would certainly mean something. She was seventeen, and courtship wasn't a far thought at all. "No… he said I was very… virtuous."

Grace Hughes speculated her daughter, as if to decide what to do with her. And just them, Courtney couldn't have felt smaller. She felt like a pawn, no longer in control of what she wanted. All she was required to he was bow her head and oblige.

"Good," her mother said slowly, not meeting her daughter's eyes. There was a scheming look to her just then, something Courtney had never thought twice about before. But now, it made her stomach twist into a knot.

"Very good."

* * *

The sheets were dark under her fingertips as Courtney sat upright in her bed.

She knew she would have to be quick to leave before her nerves ran out.

Slipping her arms in the sleeves of her robe, she slid out of her room and hurried down the stairs, guiding herself by touch. Duncan had told her once that he was always waiting for her if she ever wanted to slip away for a night. She had always brushed the invitation off, but now she felt herself clinging to in. And rightly so, as he was sleeping on the bottom step.

A nagging voice told her that neither of them should have been there, but she pushed it out of her mind and crouched beside him.

"Duncan?" She whispered, and he started. His eyes opened, as Courtney could tell in the faint light from the tall window across the great room. He smiled in a dreamlike state, and reached to hold her hand.

"I knew you would come," he told her mistily, kissing her palm.

And though she wanted to fit into his side and close her eyes, forgetting everything and living in that sole moment, Courtney knew it would erase nothing.

"You know we can't do this," she perched on the step right above his. "We can't, Duncan. It isn't right."

"Who's to say? Do you really want to abide by their rules, when they so clearly make you unhappy? You're better than them, Courtney. You deserve better." He pulled her so she tumbled softly onto his lap, caressing her fingers with his own. "The power lies with you, not with your mother."

There was nothing she wanted to do more than say yes. Yes, she would go with him. Yes, she would leave it all behind for what he promised her. But this was not rational, she knew, and it was ridiculous. It was wrong to be sitting here with him, never mind abandoning her family for Duncan. "I can't do that. You know I can't."

"Well, why not? What's left for you here?"

She stood up and glared at him, the corners of her lips turning south. "My family, Duncan. I can't leave my mother. And anyway… this is my life. Why should I just forget it all for you? I'm not sure I like you very much, anyway. You've been nothing but rude to me since the moment we met."

He chuckled and gave a gentle tug on her hand so she fell onto him again. "No, I haven't. I've merely been myself, and I daresay you like that. You don't experience much honesty in high society, do you?"

Courtney frowned slightly. "Well, no. But that's not necessarily a bad thing, now is it? If you're sparing someone's feelings… lies are rather useful, aren't they?" She looked at Duncan, who smiled.

"See, now _you're _lying. And it's not to spare my feelings, either. I know you. You hate it, don't you? I'm sure you're constantly just _itching _to tell Betty Johnson what a stupid whore she is, aren't you?"

Gasping, Courtney gave Duncan a smack on his arm, causing him to laugh again. "Of course not! I would never think such a thing!"

His eyes glinted, and he stroked the back of her hand. "Oh, yes, you would."

She sighed irritably, and turned her face away from his. "Fine. Yes, she is. Betty's a slut, and a dense one at that. But you really can't blame me for thinking so. Old Mr. Lowe had his hand right up her skirts, and she didn't even have to brains to figure that anyone else could have noticed! She's _insufferable_." Catching herself, Courtney paused, before taking back her hand and crossing her arms. "Are you happy now?"

"Almost," Duncan grinned, a suggestion that she chose to ignore as a thought came to mind.

"You didn't answer my question, you know," she told him, lips pressing together as she thought.

He looked at her curiously. "Oh? And what question would that be?"

"The one as to why I should forget it all for you."

Taking a moment to contemplate this, Duncan let his eyes wander the expanse of the shadowed hall. "Because there's nothing to forget."

A dark eyebrow was raised.

"I'm the one that cares about you, Courtney. You know that." He leaned closer, resting a hand on her knee. "You're your mother's pawn, nothing else. You're just a playing piece to her, she doesn't truly care."

The words, being so unnaturally true, hit Courtney painfully in her stomach. She stood abruptly.

"I'd thank you not to speak about my mother in such a way. I'll have you know that my mother certainly _does _care for my well-being. She's just strict because she cares."

Feet bare, she began to mount the stairs, Duncan's words pleading behind her.

"Wait, I didn't mean to say it like that—"

But Courtney didn't want to listen. He was right, she knew it. And that only made it so much harder to accept.

"Yes, you _did_." She told him sharply, hurrying now. Was it that obvious? Had even _Duncan _noticed the lack of love her mother held for her?

"Courtney!"

Meeting the top step, she finally turned around and gave a glare. "Just go away!"

"What's going on here?"

Courtney's heart leapt in her chest at the sound of a voice.

And though she wished it wasn't true, the fact that her mother was standing there, hair pulled back cleanly and eyes narrowed spitefully, was quite apparent.

"Duncan," she addressed as her gaze, sharp as ever, landed on him. "What are you doing in the house?"

A selfish wave of relief came over Courtney as she realized that she hadn't been caught. Only Duncan had, as his rightful place was in the servants' quarters. Mrs. Hughes must have assumed that Courtney had been ordering Duncan away, which had almost been the case.

"I…"

A scowl overcame Grace Hughes' features as she overlooked his disorderly manner and the dirt on his clothes and well-worn shoes. "Well?"

"I suppose I don't know," he answered, features hardening. Courtney could tell it was hard for him to keep from lashing out under the scrutiny.

"You don't know?" She looked at him distastefully, before dismissing him with a wave of her hand. "You can pack up your things. I believe we are no longer in need of your service anymore."

Gravity took effect as Courtney's heart dropped through to her feet.

_Fired?_

"But mother," she started, clutching the fabric of her robe. "Duncan has been with us for almost a year, and… we _need _him."

"I appreciate your concern for the help, but he can be replaced. Now go to bed. Goodness knows the state you'll be in tomorrow in you don't get your rest."

"_Mother_." She tried again, the strain in her voice obvious. "Please."

A skeptical look overcame her mother as she read her daughter's face. "Go. This isn't something to be debated."

"You can't!" Courtney burst suddenly, a desperation she had never known overcoming her. The thought of Duncan leaving… she couldn't begin to bear it.

Mrs. Hughes' eyes flashed at the disobedience. "Do not speak to me in such a way. You'll do as you're told, before you wake up the _entire_ neighborhood."

Flicking a glance at Duncan, who stood helplessly at the bottom step, Courtney summoned the courage to let the words fall from her lips. It felt as though her entire being followed them

"But… I love him, mother."

A sudden slap across her cheek caused Courtney to stumble back with a gasp. In her mother's eyes was a kind of fury she had never seen before.

"I never want to hear you say that again." She said, voice quivering, but firm.

Duncan was at Courtney's side at once, holding her protectively. It didn't stop her eyes from watering from the sharp sting.

"No."

Oh… what was happening? What was she _saying? _These couldn't have been her words, not her thoughts. She was a good girl, her mother's obedient girl… this wasn't happening. No… yet the reality kept pricking at her, the honesty so strong. It was too surreal… but it was happening. The entire foundation for her life was being ripped out from under her… and she was the one pulling. This was her doing…

"I'm not staying. You can tell them anything you want, I don't care anymore. I'll be leaving, and I don't think I'll come back."

She turned, shaking violently, and entered her room to pack her things. This was it. She was done. She would leave.

"You're my _daughter_!"

Courtney's vision was so clouded with anger, at her mother, at herself— she could barely see the suitcase as she pulled it out of her closet and dropped it on her bed. Duncan began to pull out dresses —the plainer, simpler ones— and packing them into the bag recklessly. It didn't matter if they wrinkled. Nothing really did.

She heard a door slam, and knew her mother had given up. Given up on _her._ The sound itself was enough to increase the flow of unsteadiness.

Grabbing the suitcase, Courtney hurried out of her room and down the stairs. She told Duncan to hitch up a carriage as she headed to the kitchen. She glanced through the pantry, gathering an armful of things to last them for the night. Oh… what ever was she doing? In a matter of seconds, she'd thrown the only life she knew away. She was going to run, with no idea what was in store for her. She would decide her own future.

Feeling her legs give out, Courtney collapsed into a heap on the floor, tears beginning to stream over her cheeks.

* * *

"She knew."

Duncan pursed his lips, and sighed after a moment's silence. "Yeah, she knew. Said it was the way I looked at you. Though I suppose she figured it was harmless."

Courtney nodded slowly and pressed herself closer into his side as the carriage pulled onward. She placed a hand in the crook of his arm and let her eyes rest on the wet gravel road beneath them. "We have so little money and no plans… how are we ever going to do this?"

The carriage slowed to a stop, and Duncan let go of the reins to look ahead of them. "Do you notice the rising sun in the distance?"

"Yes, I see it."

He smiled. "Do you know what it means for us?"

"Better light for travelling?" Courtney guessed with a raised eyebrow and an eye-roll. Where was he going with this?

"That too," he smirked, and continued. "But it means a new day, another day that I'm with you. And it doesn't matter where, but as long as we're together… I don't think I need anything else."

Now she smiled, too, and placed her hands on either side of Duncan's face, drawing it nearer. "You should be sweet more often."

Duncan frowned playfully and tried to pull away. "I don't think you'd like me as much if I was.

But Courtney held him still, and pressed their foreheads together. "No, I suppose I wouldn't."

She kissed him sweetly, shortly, and straightened as Duncan grabbed the reins. The carriage pulled on, and Courtney began to ponder what he had said.

_As long as we're together… I don't think I need anything else._

And she watched the sun as it climbed higher in the sky, knowing that he was right. It would be a new day, and with the light, there was a new world of possibilities. There was nothing to hold her back.

Letting her head rest gently on Duncan's shoulder, she closed her eyes, snow falling softly on her shoulders and in her hair.

She would make it work. She would learn to adapt. And she would love it.

It wasn't a happily-ever-after ending like so many strived for. It was messy and bittersweet, she knew. But this was the very reason Courtney couldn't have wanted it any other way. Because this, this was beyond anything one could dream up. It was so much better.

It was _real._

* * *

**Again, I'm not awfully good with endings.**

**Yeah, so the whole 'upper-class girl falls in love with her coachmen' has been used before, but I like that idea. I also figured it would be different, though, since Courtney obviously isn't blind to the consequences. She's smarter than that! And so there was a lot of self-conflict going on, too. It's set during a short period of time, so I hope the plot didn't seem rushed. I'm always paranoid that it is… I don't know why. And, in case you were wondering, it was set in the 1890's.**

**I won't panhandle you for reviews, but just know that I really do read and appreciate every one. You guys are awesome :) Hope you liked it. I'm not sure how good it is myself— it's always so hard to judge your own writing. So tell me what you liked or didn't.**

**I'll update as soon as I can, but I only start to write these while I'm in the mood, you know? I can write them over a couple of days… but they have to be the **_**right **_**days.**

**And how are you guys liking TDA? I think it became twice as funny since Courtney came back, to be honest.**


	7. Drawing

***

He was drawn to her.

The sway of her hair was nearly liquid in its movement as she rose from the chair; smooth and bright in the sunlight that streaked through a dusty window. The girl stood before her peers, eyes surveying the classroom as she waited for silence. A loud clear of her throat did the trick, and the teens turned to watch, attention half-hearted. But not Duncan.

His eyes were raking over the girl intensely, with her unyielding posture and bright eyes. There was a certain clarity he noticed in her features, a kind of will that carried into her voice as she spoke. Her words were sharp, commanding— they locked onto him with an acuteness and sureness that Duncan couldn't manage to drive away. But as the words slowed, as she stopped, as she slipped into her seat to be replaced by another student, it was curiosity that kept his gaze focused on her.

Who was she? Why had he never noticed her before? And why was she in his mind all of a sudden?

She was leaning over to a girl to her right, whispering something Duncan could not hear. He could see the girl drawing in a breath and pressing her lips together, waiting. After a moment of anticipation, the friend nodded affirmatively, and Duncan saw the girl relax into her seat, pleased.

"Duncan?"

Flicking up his gaze reluctantly, he met a beady pair of eyes, as well as a question.

"Are you ready to present the assignment?"

Without glancing away, Duncan noticed that the girl's gaze were on him. Unwavering, unconcerned. Suddenly, he was aware of his every sense. Of every slow, deep breath. Of the way his chest tightened and his blinking became irregular.

"No." The word floated from his lips with little regard. He wanted to tear his gaze away and lock it onto the girl. He wanted to know how it would feel to look into her eyes. He wanted to study the colour of her irises, wanted to see her eyelashes softly brush the top of her cheekbones.

Who was she?

The girl turned back around. He could see her arms flex slightly and heard the snap of a binder ring being closed.

"You mean, you aren't ready to present or you simply chose not to do it?"

Duncan's tense shoulders slumped and the burning feeling in his chest cooled as the girl's gaze left him. He wasn't sure whether he was disappointed or relieved.

"I didn't do it."

A click of a pen, the shuffling of paper, and the attention shifted once more. Surely her mind was elsewhere now. She was worried about her mark or wondering what to have for lunch. She wasn't thinking about him. Not in the least.

She had barely acknowledged him, yet he wanted her. There was nothing more to it. This girl had captured his lust with little more than a presentation on a subject he didn't care for. With a gaze he could not bring himself to meet. With her confidence, with her strong will. She had attracted him with something he could not express in words. The attraction had simply… risen. And she had done so unknowingly, unintentionally. She had drawn him in, and he was captivated.

Who was she?

* * *

Duncan had attended nearly every class that week, and every day the following. It was unusual, yes, but not without reason.

She seemed to be everywhere now. In the halls, in the cafeteria. Maybe she's always been there, but only now he was noticing. Sometimes, he could feel expectation budding inside— his chest tightening, his breath catching. Though, the anticipation was often in vain. He would meet the scene with no recognition of the girl, and, with a slight tinge of disappointment he made to ignore, carry on.

But there were moments, rare moments, where he did not release the breath so quickly. He would spot her immediately, brighter and bolder than anyone else. He tried to act as though he did not see her, as though the girl meant nothing to him, but it helped little. The feeling swelled inside of him recklessly, and he could not control it.

He was late. Only by a minute or two, but purposely so. The girl's eyes rose from the textbook on her desk and glanced over him as he weaved through the desks. Her attention was brief, but it sprang in him a jolt of excitement he could not find elsewhere.

Duncan's foot tapped anxiously as students replaced one another at the front of the room. Another Monday, another assignment.

"Duncan?" a voice called.

He bolted up from the seat, slip of paper in hand. It was messily written and somewhat crumpled, but an excuse to gain the girl's full attention anyway. He shuffled to the front, to the surprise of his peers, and took the stage. There were many faces turned towards him, filled with attention, but only one he cared about.

The presentation was poor and littered with errors, but it didn't matter. She was listening, she was watching. And for those three and a half minutes, she was thinking of him. Duncan knew that it was her obligation, but decided to ignore the minor details. She had noticed him. Nothing else mattered.

The project came to its conclusion and with it she extended an arm before him. Duncan's gaze lowered, and locked prominently on to hers.

Her eyes were dark. Dark, intense pools of colour and life. A florescent light above made them shine, and Duncan could feel something quake through his entire body.

But the expression on her face was that of annoyance, and she twisted her wrist so the paper she held produced a flapping noise. Understanding what she meant, Duncan reached for the evaluation sheet and glanced away. He had been staring for too long.

Sitting down, he let his eyes graze over the low mark she had awarded him and land on the comment box. Her cursive was precise and clean.

_Ideas need to be organized better. Mumbling made presentation harder to understand. Overall, fairly poor, though it's a surprise you did anything at all._

Duncan felt a smile slide over his lips. It was one of the bluntest insults he had ever received, something that should have insulted him. But it was an acknowledgement, and nothing could have made him happier.

Except, that is, for the practiced signature sitting at the top of the page.

_Courtney._

His smile fell into a broad grin, and the boy rested his chin on a fist, staring across the room until the final bell rang.

* * *

The moment could not have been more perfect. She was sitting alone in the library, book in hand, eyes scanning the pages gently. Duncan had taken up the task of locating her as soon as he had been informed of their free period, and was thrilled at the thought of talking to her for the first time. His stomach did an eager flip-flop at the sight of her and he marched quickly across the carpeted floor. But then, considering what her reaction might be, he slowed to a more leisurely pace and tried to calm his racing heart. He wasn't nervous— just excited. Terribly excited.

Placing his palms down flat on the table, Duncan raised his chin and leaned to glance over the page Courtney was currently regarding. He was too slow, though, as the girl snapped her book shut before he could get a good look, her confused face turning upwards to lock eyes. "Can I help you?" She asked, voice hinting annoyance.

A wave passed through Duncan's body. For a moment, he wondered if he would be able to summon the ability to speak. But old instincts kicked in, and soon words flowed from his lips sleekly. She was just a girl. No matter how she made him feel, she was still just a girl. A harmless girl.

"I was just wondering," he started, drawing out each syllable. "Why you chose to read during a free period."

Her eyebrows drew together. "Well, why _not?_"

Courtney's voice brushed against Duncan's consciousness tenderly, and he bit his lower lip to keep composed. "Well, then, what _are _you reading?"

Without a moment's pause for her response, the boy slid open the book from where Courtney held it with her finger and dropped his gaze to the page. "'Nay, there was naught but her,'" he read, "'and she was the housekeeper; and of her, reader, I could not bear to ask the relief of which I was sinking; I could not yet beg; and again I crawled away.'"

Again, she snapped the book shut, pulling it away.

"So you're a fan of English classics?"

Her eyes narrowed.

"How do you know it's an English classic?"

Duncan shrugged lightly, slipping into a seat next to the girl. "I didn't understand a word of it."

Courtney rolled her dark eyes, shoulders relaxing slightly. "Why am I not surprised?" she sighed, study the cover of her novel. "It's _Jane Eyre_ by Charlotte Brontë— though, I suppose, you have no clue who she is, do you?"

Instead of answering the question directly and letting the embers of their conversation die out, Duncan decided to poke at the flame. "I get the impression you don't like me very much, do you?"

Subtlety lacking, the girl gave a scoff. "I don't believe you've given me much reason to."

The corners of his mouth twitched.

"Really? Because I—" Duncan caught himself. A warning rang in his mind. _No. Don't go there._

His lower lip hung open as he held in the breath that would have been the destruction of him. Something tense, something unnatural ran through him then, and he curled his fist.

But she did not dismiss this as he had hoped. "You _what?_"

"Nothing," he insisted gruffly. "It's nothing."

Her eyes ran over him sceptically, as if trying to detect something hidden. And as she found nothing of interest, her willingness to remain withered. Courtney stood, making an excuse, and left. No regret, no hesitance. She merely left, leaving behind a sense of disappointment.

But what could Duncan have expected? Did it truly make sense for her to stay? Would it have made sense for her to giggle and smile and act easy, simply because it would have made everything effortless for him? He could not expect her to become less strong while the trait was so closely entwined with his budding desire.

Duncan sunk back into the seat and watched the girl's form as it grew smaller and retreated from sight. A breath escaped his chest, and the boy let his eyes close softly. If he tried, tried hard, he could picture her smile. A faint, tiny smile that meant more than anything could.

But suddenly, the image quivered, drawing away from his grasped fingers. It fluttered delicately, slipping softly into the crack between what he wanted and what he could not obtain. And try as he might, Duncan could not manage to bring it back.

* * *

Did she know he was staring?

Subtlety might have been key, but not an option. His eyes were drawn to her daily, with every scowl and smile she allowed to overtake her lips. He tried to be sly about it, letting his eyes rake over the room in order to sneak a glance of the girl, but every time his gaze set upon the sea of careful strands— upon the warm, curved skin— it could not help but linger. He could've considered it mere curiosity, but that would have been an understatement. He was entranced by her, though he had little understanding as to why. But then, did he truly need a reason? What he felt was so tightly wrung by his own judgement that it could not have been anything partial. He could not stop thinking of her, and the reason why, though somewhat unseen, was valid enough. Duncan knew this, and did not bother with questioning. His ambitions, his feelings… they were never without drive.

The feelings were new, anxious. Vivid images of what he wanted constantly flashed through his mind. It was new for Duncan, what he thought of. It wasn't some sick fantasy, encouraged and entertained by reckless male hormones. There were little ideas— little, sprawling ideas that consumed him and punctuated any stray thought entering his mind. He wanted to know the feel of her palm pressed against his, the feel of her hair through his fingers. He wanted to feel her pulse, wanted to look so deeply in her eyes he became lost. They were uncharacteristic, honest wants, sometimes so bizarre he had to step away from the thoughts long enough to recognize them as his own. But there was no denying what he felt, that much he was sure of— despite how little the tenderness did for his pride.

So he pursued her. Not because he loved the chase —though he did— but simply because he wanted to catch her. She may not have understood what his teasing and pestering meant, but to Duncan their meaning was clear. Because with every smirk and every smug remark, he was a step closer. To her, to _them. _And though it was often frustrating and difficult, he never tired of her. She kept him looking over his shoulder constantly, ever ready for another chance to twist the moment for his advantage. It was a game, almost, and he could not imagine playing it with any another girl.

It was an odd, satisfying act of fate that took hold one Saturday. Odd, since fate rarely ruled in Duncan's favour. Satisfying, since it involved Courtney.

Her look of disgust was immediate and familiar as Duncan approached.

"What? _What? _Can I not get away from you even on the _weekend?_" her voice snarled, fists landing promptly on her hips. Duncan smiled, scraping a heel against the sidewalk, and tilted his head to the side slightly. He knew she was expecting him to tease her, to poke at her shamelessly as he often did, but the urge to do so was nowhere to be found. Seeing her outside of school struck something in him, a kind of softness he both resented and appreciated. Maybe it was that he could be without expectation from his peers, she without hers. Maybe he simply liked the sight of her basking in the pastel sunlight of mid-spring, the cool beam crossing her skin and pressing against her hair. Maybe it was both. But whatever the reason for his sudden ambition to see a different side of her, of himself, it made up his mind in a split second, and the words trailing from his lips were calm and without arrogance.

"Relax. I never meant to run into you."

She, unfortunately, was not quick to believe his innocence. "Oh, really? Then why are walking down the street at _ten in the morning? _Don't tell me— you're running from the police or some other form or authority?"

Though her tone was harsh and accusing, Duncan didn't mind. It was invigorating. "I needed to get groceries."

"Like I'm going to believe _that_." Courtney snapped. "Really, Duncan? That's the _best _you could come up with? How about you try something a bit more _believable_ next time and tell me you're going to rob a bank."

Duncan responded by merely lifting his arm, displaying the plastic grocery bag she had so bluntly ignored.

Courtney's scowl began to fade as she took in the full bag. "Oh. Well…" she trailed off awkwardly, no doubt somewhat embarrassed by her lack of vigilance. Duncan felt a tinge of annoyance rise within him. Even when he tried to be nice, could she not see _anything _good within him? Anything… worthwhile?

But the annoyance did not have time to expand as Courtney drew together her eyebrows and squinted hopefully. "Could you at least tell me you _stole _those groceries?"

A smile twitched at the corners lips, and he laughed. The tense feeling drained away, and his body relaxed. "Sorry, I paid for them myself. Do you want to see the receipt?"

The pleading look slipped from the girl's features and was replaced with a smile so slight he could barely catch the earnest warmth behind it. "No, thanks."

They stood for a time, studying one another wordlessly. And as Duncan took in the cool silence, he found himself scarcely able to suppress the desire to step forward and taste her lips. Only for a single, tender moment, but long enough to relish in her returned longing. Because, as he could read so densely in her flickering, reckless eyes, she wanted it too. He tore through the veil of defence that encased her and saw it, lying openly, on the sheen of her lips. He could see her desire as it sat atop the mess of confusion and anger surrounding him in her mind. And though it was thoughtless, tactless, Duncan wanted nothing more than to rip the desire from within her and show it to her. To push the mess aside and leave her with mere affection. He wanted to kiss her, to cup her face in his hands and force the feelings he could now see so plainly to surface.

But the ambition was lost then, as Courtney's head turned suddenly towards the sidewalk beneath them.

"Yeah, well, I've got to go." She glanced back up, pressing her lips together and meeting his gaze vaguely. The whisper of a smile had vanished.

"Over-achievers' convention?" Duncan guessed, the grin dissolving from his features as well.

She rolled her eyes and gave a glare. "Oh, shut up."

And with that, they were back in their comfort zone. Back where they—_she_— could pretend there was nothing between them. Back where nothing was at risk of happening, where nothing could progress.

But by now, Duncan knew better. He knew…

Courtney left without another word, without another glance. She left quietly, and went on her way as though nothing had occurred, as though she had not felt what he had.

Duncan closed his eyes, fingers curling in towards his palms. He carried on, weight pressing down on his shoulders and heat pricking his skin.

He clenched his stomach, as if to untie the knots.

* * *

He wanted to smash his fist into the guy's face, over and over until there was nothing left to hit.

He wanted to pull her away, claim her for his own and drag her from the boy forcefully.

But Duncan did neither of these things. Instead, he watched angrily as they breezed down the hall, their hands clasped lovingly, a migraine throbbing into his skull.

The scowl was frightening, but Duncan didn't try to hide it. Maybe she would see. Maybe she would realize her mistake. Maybe there was some way to break them, some way to convince her to let go. Maybe he was misjudging the situation… maybe they weren't _really _dating…

Then, without warning, he called out to her. She turned, hair sprawling across her shoulders, and met his gaze with dark eyes. Her companion stopped as well, inquiring as to who had shouted. She did not answer, but instead held Duncan's attention for an intense, breathless moment.

He blinked, and she turned away. Carried on. Moved down the hall as though he had never stopped her. But Duncan could not let the moment pass. His mind swirled around her, a mixture of confusion and desperation and anger pooling in his stomach and in the dark, empty corners of his heart.

He was drawn to her,

But she didn't care.

* * *

**Alright! I'm so, so sorry for neglecting to update for so long. I couldn't find the inspiration to write anything worthwhile. I know that this isn't all too long, but I promise the second part to should be up soon. What, you didn't think I was going to leave at that, did you? Thank you so much for reading. Peace, peoples :)**


	8. Intruding

**Read the FIRST PART of this two-shot (chapter seven) if you have not already. You'll be totally confused otherwise! If you already have, you might want to consider re-reading it just to make sure you remember certain moments. There are a lot of references to the first part in this chapter… even **_**I**_** had to re-read.**

***

Of course she had known.

How stupid would she have been not to see it? She had known since that very first day: when his eyes had been so bright and captivated, his lips so vaguely parted. It had been in his pause, as it splayed across his features. But it had been his hurried recollection of self, that sudden jolt of reality striking him that had made so sharp the theory in her eye.

But she had been too busy to care. Too busy to truly recount the lust pouring behind his lashes, the hopeful whine hiding beneath his voice when he teased her. She couldn't have seen the way his throat constricted when she looked at him with flaring eyes; nor the way his body heaved a sigh when she laughed. Courtney hadn't seen these things—not willingly enough to _really_ see, anyway—and remained ignorant of his true feelings. Towards her own feelings—well, had she truly any need to question?

There was no doubt, no doubt of any kind amidst her thoughts as to how she felt towards the boy: he was irritating, annoying, and downright appalling. He was far more infuriating than she was willing to cope with. How she managed to keep her cool when he walked into class late on multiple occasions was a mystery to her. Why couldn't he just follow the rules? And _why_ did he have to create a migraine in her temple every time she tried to reprimand him for doing so? But what she truly craved to know, what she _truly _wanted to understand was as to why could he not have made things simpler by just leaving her alone?

Oh— but she could not have _begun _to imagined the complications.

Because as time wore on, as the annoyance drew down to a lower simmer, as her revulsion towards him dimmed, and as she began to feel small smiles surfacing on her lips when they spoke— her hate for him grew.

It made no sense. She was sensible, reasonable. She could find an explanation for the most alien of situations, could develop an understanding of the most bizarre of feelings— but of this, she could not comprehend. How could he be growing on her? How could she even _begin_ to enjoyhis company? Duncan held no qualities she admired, no ambitions she shared. Yet she didn't cringe at the thought of him, despising and flinching at his presence. She almost _wanted_ to around him.

And for that reason precisely, she couldn't _stand_ him.

But she could not have stopped what happened. No matter how reluctant and impervious she remained towards the truth of how he felt, she could not have stopped it from crashing down upon her.

Maybe it had been the embarrassment at having accused him and being wrong, maybe her judgement had simply been made vulnerable— but whatever the case, she felt it. Overpowering, _sickening_— it fell upon her so recklessly and fearlessly, made her weak in the knees. So rich in its earnestly, so ripe in its feeling. She experienced the full weight of his wanting as strongly as if it had been her own.

And then, after too long and agonizing a wait, the realization struck her with such force she nearly gasped aloud—

It _was _her own.

So she had avoided his eyes then, marched past and left the boy where he stood on the sidewalk.

It had been too much. Too much raw emotion, too much desire for her to handle. She had been overwhelmed, and for that she was both rightly embarrassed and unsure. Maybe, over time, she would come to cope with it. Maybe she would be able to live in acceptance of her feelings. Or maybe—_maybe—_she could do away with the thoughts of him altogether.

But he had seen. He must have. The recognition was bright in his face and in his eyes she saw a clambering satisfaction. He had felt it, as sure as she had, and there was no doubt in her mind that he would haunt her.

And though she finally understood what she had craved to know, Courtney could not help but feel as though the walls of her own mind were closing in all around her.

* * *

For the first time in over two months, his seat was empty.

Courtney shouldn't have been surprised—shouldn't have cared enough to _be _surprised, really—but found herself sinking with the knowledge of his absence nonetheless. She pressed her lips together as the bell sounded, her stomach churning.

She had seen his eyes on her. How no one else had, she was not entirely sure. It had been a glare to cut glass, and she remembered the way her throat had constricted with the heat of it. Courtney had tried to pass without a care, tried to grip onto Tyler's hand without feeling guilty. And she might have, might have made it without a single tremble— when he called out.

A wince had broken through her when she turned, meeting the rage in his eyes and as it reached each corner of his expression. Duncan didn't try to hide it— didn't have to, she supposed.

But she hadn't answered. Hadn't stood up for her actions, hadn't explained herself. For that she was proud: he didn't deserve an explanation, anyway. What did she owe him? She hadn't committed to anything, she hadn't promised him anything. She was perfectly free to date whomever she wanted. And if he couldn't cope with that… then, well— _tough_.

Thinking this, Courtney smiled and pushed the churning feeling away. Her eyes flicked to the chalkboard ahead of her, sitting up as straight as she could manage as the lesson began.

"Hey— Duncan isn't here today."

Courtney felt her ears perk, and glanced towards her peer.

"Oh?" She smirked, running a hand through her hair nonchalantly. "I hadn't noticed."

If life had been a movie, Courtney would have called _cut _right then and there. It seemed the perfect moment: she was _over_ him. Or, at least, as over as she could be. Had she really liked him anyway? She was starting to think not.

But life wasn't a movie—or, at least, not the kind _she_ enjoyed—and Courtney's ears pricked for a second time as she heard the crack of a door opening.

And, without turning to look, Courtney knew who it was.

"Ah— oh, never mind, I take it back."

She wouldn't look. She would not _dare _look.

She saw him approach her desk out of the corner of her downturned eye, and the sound of a cruel, amused snort of laughter reached her. Courtney's temper flared, realizing he knew she was avoiding his eyes.

But as her eyes rose to meet his with an easy-going half-smile to prove him wrong, Duncan moved past her entirely, shuffling down the row to his seat.

And though it was stupid and irrational, Courtney couldn't stop herself from turning to catch his eye.

He was looking ahead, but after a long moment of provoking, Duncan's gaze slipped and fell into hers. He didn't smile, didn't glare. He just stared right back at her, as if trying to understand the complexities of what she had done.

Something flashed through his eyes, then, something sudden. And as Courtney caught it, she could see it was soft. It was melancholy, in a way, something unnatural in him. She saw it as something that broke through all of the arrogance he surrounded himself with and exposed the kind of love dwelling in the deep centres of his eyes. And the sight of it sent tremors through the girl.

That sort of passion wasn't something Courtney wanted to see. She didn't want to feel it in the empty spaces of her stomach, she didn't want it to bore into her. She knew it would break her, and she wouldn't allow that to happen.

Courtney whipped back around abruptly, feeling as though her entire body was on fire. She swallowed heavily, blinked furiously, and sucked in a short breath.

Her eyes remained ahead of her for the remainder of class. Where Duncan's eye were, she didn't want to know.

And over the next couple days, over the next several weeks, and then into the next few months, she grew to know less and less.

* * *

"Sign my yearbook?"

The line had been parroted to her ears too many times to count. Summer had crept up on the students, and really, they couldn't have complained. Because with summer came the end of their studies, and with that came the freedom they'd been lacking for so long.

Courtney nodded, and, taking the book, flipped to page fourteen to sign beneath her school portrait.

_Have a great summer, Tyler. I'll see you next year —Courtney_

They had broken up. A while ago, actually. Neither of the two had been feeling anything, not enough to bother with any further, at least. It had just seemed as though something was _supposed _to happen, what with all they had in common and how easily they got along. But Courtney had never managed to work up much of an enthusiasm, and after a time, the relationship wilted, and faded away.

Handing the yearbook back, Courtney smiled and slipped the final binder into her bag. That was it. Her locker was completely empty.

Blowing out a sigh, she slammed the metal door shut, and started to push through the throng of her peers.

She'd nearly made it out of the school, when a bright flash of colour caught the corner of her eye and a familiar voice reached her ears.

"Yeah, well, _no shit _it's not my fault. How the hell was I supposed to know he was going to be there?"

She could see his eyes sweep by her, but they didn't linger. His voice didn't pause or waver, either— and neither did she.

Her mind wouldn't settle on him, didn't remember how. He had been so far pushed from her thoughts that she didn't know how to think of him anymore.

Duncan had switched out of class. Or, at least, that was what she had assumed. His attendance became less and less frequent until she rarely saw him at all. When her eyes did manage to land on him the odd time, she would feel her heart jump inside her chest and her head pound. She could see it in him too— the way his body stiffened subtly, the way his voice quieted and by the way his words became slow. But those moments slowly became less intense, and she felt the thoughts of him slipping more and more from her mind. Courtney found herself looking for him less and less. The thoughts of him that had so ultimately consumed her mind faded in dark corners, began to loom vaguely when her mind strayed. He was there, in her thoughts, but then… he wasn't.

She'd heard that he was going out with someone. Maybe he still was, she wasn't entirely sure. For a while she'd listened to the gossip, but after a time, it started to slip past her. She hadn't spoken to him for months, anyway, and was doubtful she ever would again.

The last time she could remember having anything to do with him was shortly after she had broken up with Tyler. He had attended class that day (the last class he'd gone to, she later came to realize) and passed by her desk slowly, like he had before everything had changed between then. And, to her surprise, Duncan's eyes had grazed over hers, softly, as they hadn't in as long a time as she could remember. They had been filled with a kind of tender expectancy, as if he was waiting, maybe hoping, for her to say something. But she hadn't, and he had carried on. Courtney was never completely certain of what he'd wanted her to do, but had the feeling that maybe she didn't.

Either way, life carried on. Though the weight of Duncan and the feelings he had made too obvious had pressed upon her shoulders, though her stomach had lurched at the thought of what had happened, she learned to live through it. Her world hadn't crumbled because of him, nor would it ever. She was still who she had worked so long and so tirelessly to become. She was still Courtney, no matter the effect he'd had on her. No matter the feelings that may have taken hold of her long ago, she had not changed.

She pushed past Duncan and his friend, numb, and slipped through the door.

The sun was bright and hit her warmly. Any stray thoughts of Duncan dissolved, and Courtney closed her eyes for a moment, soaking in the heat. And as her body absorbed the light and the dewy air of summertime, she felt content.

After all, how could she miss something she never had?

* * *

Her foot, swollen with sunlight, bobbed up and down to the beat.

"_Wa—oh—oh—oh—oh…"_

Courtney's lips followed the words protruding from a boom-box resting on a section of the deck behind her, only pausing for her to press a finger to her tongue and turn the page of her _Julius Caesar_.

The house seemed too empty. The halls seemed too quiet. Though, in full honesty, Courtney wasn't exactly complaining—she appreciated the sense of orderliness she and her father both shared. But despite this, she could not help but notice how inexplicably _still_ everything seemed. Then again… in comparison to what could be expected in a few mere hours, just about anything was utterly placid.

That was not to say that she didn't love her family— not at _all_. It was from them that she had learnt how to hold her ground, from them she'd learnt to stand up for what she believed in. And Courtney would have been lying had she denied enjoying their quarrels. Not necessarily the rowdiness of it, but rather the drive behind their words. They were just about the only people she knew that could argue and argue until every point and theory had been exploited and until every person in the room was at their wits' ends. It was incredible— if not mild insanity.

Of course, the _commotion_ they caused was never well appreciated by her, nor her father. That, of course, was why he'd been hesitant to invite them to spend the month of August with them at their summer home. But, after endless provoking and pestering, he'd finally caved, and set a date for them to arrive.

"You're in charge," he had told Courtney shortly after getting off the phone with his brother. "This is more of a headache than I can handle."

She hadn't been surprised, really. After her mother had died, Courtney's father often turned to her for advice. She didn't mind— Courtney took on the extra responsibility with pride.

So for the past two months, she had been planning. Meals, sleeping arrangements, seating arrangements, activities for the younger kids and outings for the adults. There was a distinct plan set in her mind (as well as on her day planner), and nothing would disturb it.

Except, maybe—

"I cannot see _how _my granddaughter can listen to this music and still concentrate on a novel."

Her eyes flicking up, Courtney felt her lips part, and she dropped the book to her side.

"_Nan?_"

She leapt up from the lawn chair and raced across the deck, stretching to wrap her arms around her grandmother where she stood by the gate.

"_Aye, _I'm an old woman! Be careful!"

Courtney lessened her hold, but did not let go immediately.

The woman pulled back and smiled into her granddaughter's eyes. "So, tell me, what are you reading? Don't tell me it is one of those _floo-floo_ novels. Did I not teach you better?"

"It's Shakespeare, Nan."

"Ah! That is some literature! Now— you must tell me, when did you get so strong? You have got a strong grip!" Nan raved, giving Courtney's forearm a squeeze. "I hope you are not scaring off the boys with it— ah, no, they've much more to be frightened of with my Maria than just her strength, no?" she gave a cheeky grin and watched her granddaughter's glowing smile as is spread further across her features. "But, now, you haven't got a boyfriend you've neglected to tell me about, have you?"

"Oh— _no_."

Nan patted her cheek. "Ah, of course not. You're too smart for all those silly boys, right? Too good for them! My, you've grown so much— Don't think I didn't notice your hips! And your aunts worried about your late blooming: _ha_! I told them you would grow. And see? Tell me, do these silly boys fawn over you?"

Pink flushed across Courtney's skin. "_Nan!_"

"What? You think I'm lying? Maybe I should take you into town and show you how they ogle. But no— you've no time for little romances. My granddaughter, the businesswoman!"

Courtney took in the old woman's grin, but could not help but letting her lips succumb to a small frown. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming early? Is everyone else coming sooner too?"

"Don't you worry, now! Your cousins will get here when they get here. But, now: look at this view! Your father spoils us, I know it."

Following her grandmother's eyes, Courtney glanced over the lake before them, at the sparkling water and the trees piled around the edge. She spotted other vacation homes, nestled within the woods. Courtney took in the early afternoon sun and turned back to the woman beside her.

"Yeah, I know, it's nice. But you should have told me you were coming today! I haven't washed the linens and I still have to clean the guest rooms—"

Nan ignored the concern and swivelled around. "Look at this house! _Look! _I am going to speak with your father. He had better not be forgetting where he came from!"

Her wrinkled eyes surveyed the expanse of the estate: over the pool, over the bar, through the windows and into each of the bedrooms. Her lips pursed.

"We rent it out to people when we aren't here, Nan." Courtney pointed out. "It's a business venture."

Still, the woman remained unconvinced.

"I will go speak with him. But: I am glad to be here with you." She reached upwards, cupped her granddaughter's face in her hands, and kissed her forehead.

After Nan had scurried inside to reprimand her son, Courtney hurried over to the driveway, trying to reorganize her mental schedule. And as she passed through the gate, she caught a snippet of Nan's lecture.

"_That much for a house you live in only during the summer months? Silly money! You didn't pay to live in my uterus, and that was the best house you ever had!"_

* * *

"Mama!"

Nan didn't look up from her lunch as she spoke. "Can you only spare your home to family and paying customers? Is that how I raised my son? To be greedy?"

Courtney's father sputtered. "No, but_—_"

"No buts! You will be glad to have the company."

The man ran a hand through his hair tensely. "We already _have _company, Mama. Plenty! We'll be twenty, altogether—"

"Twenty-two." Courtney corrected.

"_Twenty-two!_"

The woman fixed her son with a simple look. "Are you telling me there will not be enough room for a few extra guests in this," she raised her arms for emphasis "_great big house?_ Well, then, I am sure you will not want your Mama here either. I haven't seen you in over a year, but if _this _is what you want, then I will pack my bags right now."

Courtney heard her father sigh, and she knew he had been defeated.

"I just wish you had told me. Inviting another family that we don't even _know? _Courtney and I are stressed over all of this as it is…"

He dropped his head in his hands, and Courtney knew that he was regretting letting the staff go on holiday during his mother's visit. 'It will make her happier, to know that we don't have to hire people to do things for us,' he'd said. The idea obviously hadn't as much of an impact as he had hoped.

"Denise is a good friend. Her family's vacation was cancelled at the last minute. How could I not invite them? Do you not trust my judgement? But it does not matter. Maria and I will take care of it all." Out of the corner of her eye, she gave her granddaughter a wink. Courtney grinned in response. "Your sister is going to meet them at the train station, and they will come straight here. We had better start cleaning up— and wipe that pout off your face! I did not come this far to see my son sulk!"

After they had finished their meal, Courtney made her way down to the laundry room to grab the bed sheets and towels she had stuck in to wash earlier. She dropped the laundry into a basket and carried it out of the room.

Courtney was just slipping the final pillow into its case when she heard the doorbell ring through the hall. Hopping down the stairs, she glided over to the door and pulled it open with one fluid motion.

"_Courtneeeey!"_

"Aunt Elena!"

The woman rushed in, squealing with girlish excitement and flapping her hands. She tossed her arms around Courtney and hugged the girl, smelling of perfume and hairspray. Aunt Elena let go and slipped past to Courtney's father and grandmother, who had suddenly appeared.

Another pair of arms engulfed Courtney, and soon her relatives began pouring into the foyer. Faces she had not seen in too many months were now re-entering her mind with distinct changes. This cousin had grown taller, that one had sprouted facial hair. A few of her younger cousins glanced around excitedly, apparently having learnt to talk in the time since Courtney had last seen them. She smiled, and straightened to resume her role as the eldest cousin.

Nan's voice suddenly rose, and she shuffled past the crowd to the very back. "Aha! How are you, Denise?"

Courtney glanced over the mob and caught a glance of a woman with white hair standing at the back. She was accompanied by a middle-aged man and woman. A boy about the age of seven bounded eagerly by the woman, who appeared to be trying to restrain him. The man's eyes shifted across the room tensely.

"Oh, the train ride was _miserable_." Denise exclaimed, shifting through the mass of relatives to grasp Nan's hands. "And I told them, I said, you aren't going to get many more customers with this service! But you know, they won't listen to a crazy old lady, will they? They act as though I don't notice the corners they cut! Oh, and the car rental— did you know that you can wreck it _entirely_ and they'll send you a new car? My grandson was telling me. _Ridiculous!_"

Courtney felt her father's fingers press against her forearm. "Go help with the luggage. I'll try to move this zoo into the living room."

Nodding, Courtney squeezed past her family to the door, pausing to extend her hand towards the man and woman.

"Hi, I'm Courtney," she greeted, smiling with an air of professionalism. This seemed to put the man at ease, and he took her hand to give it a quick, short shake.

"Arthur. This is my wife, Carol, and my son, Thomas. It's nice to meet you."

There was a certain formality to his tone, and Courtney found herself respecting it. "You too."

She excused herself then, remembering her task, and slipped through the door. A patter of footsteps followed.

"You're really tall."

Courtney glanced over her shoulder, meeting the eyes of the little boy—Thomas—and raising a brow. "Am I?"

He nodded affirmatively. "Yeah. I know taller people, though. My uncle Bobby is really tall. He took me to Chuck E. Cheese. I thought it was stupid."

"Oh? I've never been there before," she said, trying to make conversation as she moved over to a car and popped the trunk open.

Thomas hopped up on the edge of the trunk, swinging his legs back and forth. "The only good part was the ball pit. You get to throw plastic balls at people."

"That's not a good idea," Courtney said, pulling out a suitcase and setting it on the ground heavily.

Ignoring the warning, Thomas tilted his head curiously. "Hey, what's your name?"

She heaved a sigh. "It's Courtney."

"Oh. That's cool." He glanced around, as though trying to find more to talk about. "Hey, do you want to see my DS? I have Pokémon."

"Sure." Courtney muttered tiredly, reaching into the far back to retrieve the final suitcase. She wasn't trying to be miserable, but she was starting to get stressed.

The boy jumped down from his perch and moved around to the side of the car to yank open the door. Courtney heard him give a huff of annoyance, and a second voice reached her ear.

"Give it!"

"Just a sec…"

"Give it _now!_ I need to show Courtney something!"

"Your girlfriend can wait. I need to finish this level first."

"Ew—she's not my girlfriend! And it's _my _DS! Give it!"

Rolling her eyes, Courtney closed the trunk and picked up several of the suitcases. "That's okay, Thomas— I'm fine, _really_."

Elbows buckling slightly at the extra weight on her arms, Courtney pressed her shoulders back and started towards the front door. She was just about to step through the doorframe when she heard a voice call out.

"Hey, wait—!"

Courtney gritted her teeth, annoyance bursting through her, and turned on her heel sharply.

"_What?_"

She couldn't have been ready. There was no way that she could have been ready. The sight of two eyes too blue and lips so vaguely party—so… _intimately_ parted—made her knees weak, and a squeak of shock slipped from her like a fluttering white flag.

"Duncan?"

* * *

Traces of laughter and stray bits of conversations swarmed around her, but Courtney remained still.

She could see it in Duncan, too. He didn't move, didn't seem to blink. He merely sat, slouched in his chair, and eyed his dinner plate.

Their conversation earlier had been short and wide-eyed, consisting mainly of vague questions that went unanswered and thoughts that trailed off until Courtney finally excused herself, finding refuge in her room. She'd stared at the ceiling, her stomach churning and her mind unsteady.

How was this possible? How could it be? It didn't make sense, didn't compute. Of all places, of anywhere she could have been, _this_ was the safest. With her family, in her home, she thought herself to be untouchable. But he had found her there, in a place where her guard was brought down, where her armour slipped to the floor. He had brought fear—she hated to think of the word; what _was_ fear, anyway?—to a place where it was foreign and unwelcome. And for that, she was—

Confused. For the second time, it would seem.

But angry, also. He had no right to intrude, no right to butt into her life when she had already disposed of him. Duncan should have left as soon as their eyes had met, as soon as the realization dawned on him. But she couldn't have expected him to take that kind of initiative, so Courtney resorted to glaring at the fork in her hand.

"So, where about do you go to school, Duncan?" Courtney's father asked, glancing over the table to where the boy sat. During one of their many conversations in the sitting room, it had been discovered that both Courtney and Duncan's families lived in the same area. It was inevitable, she supposed, but Courtney couldn't help but hope that they never found out anything about… well, what had happened months ago.

Courtney tried not to follow her father's gaze, but found her eyes flicking up to fix upon the intruder where he sat directly across from her anyway. Duncan met her stare, and an spiteful smile twitched on the corner of his lips, as if to say: go ahead, Courtney— _tell them_.

"Duncan goes to my school." She said, simply and pointedly. What Courtney chose not to mention was that he'd been in near _love_ with her at one time. It didn't seem to be an appropriate conversation to have over dinner. Or, really, an appropriate conversation at all.

"_Oh?_" was the collective response among their parents. Courtney saw the smile quirk on Duncan's lips again, and he spoke.

"Yeah. But, you know, we never really got to know each other all too well. I guess Courtney was always a little too busy with _things._"

Courtney felt her temper flare instantly. What he was implying was _more _than clear. And how _dare _he mention it over dinner.

But, with effort, Courtney managed to keep calm, and let her words run sleekly.

"Yes, well, I _was_ a little bogged down last year. But I find it's really just a matter of _prioritizing. _You know, filtering out the good _things _from the useless, pathetic _things._" She smirked.

Duncan's face flushed with anger.

"Or was it just getting rid of things that a bit too much for you to _handle, _was it? You know, tossing away something worthwhilefor some… _prick _just because you're confused_._"

Courtney reddened, but not just from anger. "_No._" She passed her tongue over her lower lip. "I don't think I was confused _at all_."

The boy squinted, his eyebrow piercing catching the light above them. "Really? Because it sounds like you're _lying_."

She gritted her teeth slightly. "Oh, no, I'm being _completely _honest. Believe me, I _never _wanted it"—by which, of course, she meant _him—_"I would have been perfectly happy having never heard of it at _all!_"

"Oh, yeah, _right. _I'm pretty sure _it _knew better than that. _It _knew that you were making a stupid decision."

Heat was rising in Courtney's throat, and she was unaware of the quiet that had fallen upon the table. "_It _knew and _still_ knows absolutely _nothing. _I _know_ I don't regret the decision I made—"

"Because you were and _are_ ignoring how you actually felt—"

"And the only reason you disagree with _my decision _is because you feel sorry for yourself and—"

"That isn't even _kind of _true!"

"I think it _is_!"

Her voice had risen, and Courtney could clearly see the warmth in Duncan's cheeks as he spoke. "You know what? I don't even think there was anything there to _begin _with, and you've just been flattering yourself the entire time!"

"Oh, there was something there! There was _always _something there!"

Duncan's palms were flat on the table as he stood. Fire was bright in his eyes. "How would _you _know if there was something there? You were too obsessed with _Tyler _to—"

Something broke in Courtney then, and her chair scraped the floor as she jumped to her feet. "_I knew all along, Duncan!_"

There was a pause, during which Duncan's expression briefly slipped into some kind of panic. He stared at her, looking as though whatever protection he had surrounded himself with had fallen, leaving him bare.

She watching his expression for only a moment, before Courtney blinked, and retreated into her room for the second time that day.

* * *

There was a knock at the door, and Courtney glanced up from her notebook.

"I'm notin the mood!"

"Maria! You open this door right now, or I will break it down myself!"

Sighing, Courtney slipped from her perch. She shuffled over to the door and opened it, meeting the eyes of her grandmother.

"I thought you were dad."

Nan eyed her. "It should not make a difference, should it?" she raised an eyebrow and pushed past Courtney to sit on her bed, patting the space beside her. Courtney sighed and reluctantly slumped over to the spot beside her grandmother. "Now tell me, what is going on?"

"Duncan's just this annoying kid from school. That's—" she was about to say _all, _but caught herself. Was there really any point in lying to her grandmother? She would end up admitting to everything in the end, anyway.

Shifting in her seat to better face the woman, Courtney cleared her throat and came clean. "He liked me a few months ago, and then I started going out with this boy named Tyler… and Duncan got upset over it. We haven't really spoken since. I'm guessing he's still angry."

Pursing her lips, Nan thought for a moment. "And you?" she said after a moment. "You are still upset over this?"

Courtney blinked, and leaned away. "Well, I was never _upset—_just, you know… it isn't as though we were ever _together_. He didn't _own _me or anything. I'm allowed to date who I want. So really, he didn't have any reason to be angry with me in the first place, right?"

Nan searched Courtney's expression, slowly, before raising her eyebrows with question. "But how do you feel about the boy?"

"Like I said, he's just some annoying kid. I really can't stand him, Nan— _what?_" The woman was smiling. "What?"

"Well," she ignored the question, "I think it would help to talk to him. No one wants you two arguing and ruining the vacation you have planned. Your father told me you have worked very hard to make this all work."

Courtney beamed, but the smile drained from her as a figure appeared at the door.

Oh…

"_Nan?_" she snapped, eyes blazing as they jumped from Duncan back to her grandmother. "You didn't—"

"Ah! I believe the water has boiled for my tea downstairs. I will leave you two alone." She stood, scurrying out the door with a call over her shoulder, "Be nice, Maria!"

Courtney's eyes snapped back to Duncan, who had crept into the room and was now inspecting his surroundings. He looked to be avoiding her eyes, but otherwise was oddly calm.

"My grandmother told you to come, didn't she?"

Duncan's eyes fell into hers, and he gave a slow shrug. "Maybe."

The glare in her eyes hardened.

"Why does she call you Maria?" Duncan asked, glancing over a certificate hanging on her wall.

Courtney scoffed. "What does _that_ have to do with anything?"

"It doesn't. I'm just curious."

"Well, it's none of your business." She snapped, crossing her arms over her chest.

Duncan sauntered over and fell back on Courtney's bed casually, smirking lightly at her. "Come on. You know you want to."

It felt weird, talking with Duncan now. She had always known that he liked her, but knowing how _much _only know… it made her insides squirm. Courtney figured he felt the same way.

"No. Now get off my bed, Duncan."

"Make me, _Maria._"

"Call me that again and I _will!_"

"Oh, by all means— _try_."

"Stop acting like such a child!"

"_I'll _stop acting like a child when _you _admit that you made a mistake!"

Courtney flushed, hating him for bringing up the subject again. "I didn't make a mistake!"

Duncan parted his lips, reading with a fiery retort, when he stopped. He stared at her for a moment, before continuing in a quieter, awkward voice.

"Did you really know?"

Courtney squinted at him, not understanding. "What?"

"_Did you really know?_" he snapped "…the _whole_ time?"

She paused, remembering what she had said earlier. "I knew since the report you did in geography class. You aren't exactly _subtle, _Duncan." Courtney added.

They were quiet for a moment, during which Duncan seemed content to stare at the floor. But a long pause of thought, he spoke, calmly and collectively.

"And… you never liked me? Not even for a moment?"

"No!" Courtney snapped furiously. "Do I _really _have to say it aloud? Of course I never liked you!"

The boy watched her again, studying the expression consuming her eyes. And then, after another moment of silence, Duncan did the strangest thing:

He smiled.

"What?" Courtney growled, confused and annoyed by the grin. "_What?_"

Duncan leaned deeper into her duvet, still smiling.

"_Duncan!_ Just stop it already! That smile is starting the creep me out—"

He chuckled.

"Ugh! I can't stand you! This isn't _amusing_! Say something!"

She shrieked, irritated, but it seemed as though the boy was far beyond any reason.

* * *

Duncan realized three things in that moment:

One, that he was in bed with Courtney. Alright, maybe not _in _it, but that still counted as something towards his ego.

Two, he had been wrong. Wrong to think, months ago, that he had lost all hope. Because, sitting there with her, he finally understood what he had failed to see before: she had known all along, and yet, _she had stayed. _But when—this was what had _really_ tipped Duncan off—she finally seemed to see the feelings mirrored in herself, _she had left. _Before, he had thought it was because he hadn't been good enough, because someone else had been better, someone else had _beaten _him— but now, now he truly understood:

She had been scared.

Scared of how she felt, of how her reluctance had melted. She had been scared, and chose to hide behind a prep who wore dress shoes and a sweater vest to school. She had seen something other than him, and had found her comfort in that. But now Duncan knew better. He knew to fight. He knew to stay true to what he wanted, what he _deserved. _Duncan knew what kind of ambition he needed to have, what kind of drive. He knew that he needed to earn her. He knew he could.

Then, three: For nearly thirty days, they would be living under the same roof. Eating at the same table. Sharing the same vacation, whether she liked it or not.

And there were no preps in cottage country.

* * *

**Oh goodness! Looks like this two-shot is going to turn out to be a **_**ménage à trois! **_**Oh, no, wait… that's something different…**

**But yeah, another chapter will be up. This story is just getting too big! I really considered trying to resolve everything in this chapter, but it was pretty long with just this and I still had to add a BUNCH more stuff. I know, a lot of professional terms in this AN, but try to bear with it. Kidding. So tell me what you think of this instalment, if you can call it such. Did it have enough substance? Or was it a little dry? I know it seems like I took the story in an entirely different direction than would have probably made sense, but this just felt right. I don't know. I just make this stuff up as I go along :S**

**Thanks for reading and for the awesome reviews you guys left on the last chapter:)! I'm going to try to start replying… I always feel so honoured when people reply to reviews. Is that weird? Oh well.**

**Okay, last thing, I swear: If you want to know how far along I am with stories, you can usually check on my profile. Just scroll down through all the boring personal stuff (how many times have I said 'stuff' in this AN?) and it's at the bottom.**

**Again, thanks!**


	9. Falling

**Part 3. Read the two chapters before this one if you haven't already!**

**For Cereal-Killa**

**()()()**

He watched as her eyes sculpted the excited waves below. They were rippling, peeling, falling over one another beneath them, the sun casting its glance over the lake as it spurred. He saw her eyes flickering, dancing, rising and falling in her emotions, with her mind, and wanted for a moment to touch those thoughts. He wanted to be linked to her, in tune with the lyrics only she could hear. A part of her.

So he called to her, said her name, and the girl turned, her eyes constructing a bridge between them. But though her stare was wild with feeling, bright and full, he felt nothing. No stirring in his heart, no trill falling down his spine. Of course he didn't. He knew that not every look, every feeling, was allowed to surface in those eyes. And he knew that the ones he wanted to see, needed to lay his own gaze upon, were hidden deep inside of her, barred and neglected. Unacknowledged by her, undesired by her conscience.

Who had he been to expect so much from just a glance? Who was he to expect a connection with a simple word? He had done all he could think of to make something happen, and all had failed; a look could do nothing to help him now.

Courtney, oblivious to his thoughts, retreated from the lip of the cliff in several steps. Her eyes narrowed with determination as she turned to face it again, and then she was running, she was jumping, and finally, falling.

Duncan hadn't doubted that she would do it, hadn't thought twice about his confidence in her, but seeing the dive, seeing the lack of hesitation in her features— it had sent a renewed sense of exhilaration through him. And then he too was starting off with a run, his feet slapping against the rock, his arms pumping. And when he leapt off of the cliff, the air blasting past him eagerly, whooshing by his ears, he heard the distant sound of water splashing and cracking below him as Courtney broke through it.

And he was right behind.

* * *

"That was… incredible."

Courtney was breathing deeply, a smile warming the edges of her lips. They had just climbed onto the dock, having swam a good distance from where they had jumped. Duncan had been the one to spot the cliff, a short trek from the house, and had also been the one to challenge Courtney to dive off of it. She, incapable of refusing any challenge, had done so without a single flash of fear in her eyes— hence the triumphant stance she had taken on as she dripped over the wood.

"I told you I could do it! And you hadn't believed me. But I suppose that just goes to show how much you underestimate me, right, Duncan?" The girl fitted her hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow smugly.

Duncan just smirked at her, saying nothing. Though it might have been a victory for her, his winnings had been greater. Because she was standing before him, grinning and energized, speaking without contempt. And that, if nothing else, was a rare enough circumstance.

He had figured that ignorance would be her strategy from that very first night. He knew that she would shield herself, push him as far away as she could. But he hadn't let her. With every distancing step she took, he countered with an intimate leap. He would jump on any chance to tease her, to grow closer, to stir the feelings that she had let become numb.

It wasn't as hard to go from hating the thought of her to awaiting the very sight of her every morning as Duncan had anticipated. A little strange at first, sure, but what he'd realized the first day sent a renewed vigour through him. He _did_ have a chance, he _did_ have a shot. She wouldn't become _the one that got away_. She would become the one that he'd worked so, _so_ hard to get. The one he never truly gave up on. The one that was worth it, would always be worth it. She would be the _one_.

Whatever shock that had struck her when she'd first discovered Duncan to be her housemate for the next month had taken its time wearing off of Courtney, though. She was reluctant: the first morning, her eyes had flickered over him for a long moment before she finally acknowledged that his appearance hadn't been a dream, hadn't been something she could wake up from. And slowly, as the week had passed by, her looks became less angry, less disbelieving. At times, they were even tired as they fell upon him, dull in their understanding, lifeless as the reality soaked into her. And Duncan would fret, for just a moment, and rack his brain for an idea to change her perspective. He wouldn't be a deadweight to her, something she had to endure. He couldn't be.

So he kept things interesting, kept things changing and evolving with the little things that he did. He would startle her, creeping up behind and whispering something in her ear softly. She was always quick to snap around and tell him off, to leave her alone, but once, just once, she had hesitated. With the right words, the most tender of tones, he had caught her, trapped her in the moment. And her lips had trembled, so slightly, and in her hands she had wrung a dishtowel until her knuckles flashed white. He had been whispering the lyrics to a song, and in an utter fluke, it had been her favourite.

Duncan's words weren't always so sweetly put, though: he took a liking to pestering her, often at the worst of times. Once, when she had just barely crawled out of bed, he had taken a long look at her messy hair and slow eyes and given a loud, blunt shot of laughter. "Not a morning person, huh, sweetheart?"

She'd responded with a sharp punch to his stomach. If nothing else, it'd only proven his point further.

But even with all of the jokes he might have cracked, he was still glad to see this side of her. He was happy to know that she could be herself, even if not by choice, around him. She wasn't ashamed of the person she was, even if that girl was crabby when she first woke up, even if that girl became upset when things didn't work out exactly how she'd planned. Even if that girl was crazy, and quick-tempered, and uptight— He would like her all the more.

Duncan watched as Courtney grabbed her towel from where it sat in a pile on the edge of the dock and wrapped it around herself, offering a teasing, "It wasn't even that high of a fall."

Sensing another challenge, Courtney brought her eyes back to Duncan and snapped excitedly: "Yes, it was. It had to have been _easily_ over forty feet."

"Go ahead and tell yourself that, but I'm just not so sure about it." The boy shrugged. And though he expected Courtney to retort, he found himself abandoned as she padded down the dock towards the house, meeting her family where they lounged on the deck. Duncan rolled his eyes and followed.

The sight of his brother's blond hair caught his eye as the little boy scrambled up to Courtney's side eagerly. "That was awesome! You dropped like fourteen million thousand billion _trillion _feet!" He turned to his and Duncan's mother, eyes wide. "Can I jump off the cliff too? _Please?_"

Carol smiled, but shook her head. "No, honey, you can't."

His lower lip slid out. "Why not? _Duncan _got to!"

"That," Duncan's father started, his eyes unimpressed, "is because your brother is a reckless teenager with no regard for consequences."

"Ouch." The teen snickered as he approached, drawing the attention to himself. One of the aunts spoke up in his defence.

"Relax, Arthur, they were careful. Besides, we all did stupid things in our teens. That's what makes being a kid so much fun!"

The word _relax _made the man flinch, but the look was so subtle that his son was sure that no one but he and his mother had caught it. Because he was a guest in their house, Duncan knew that his father would ignore the comment. But had it been him saying something of a similar nature under his own roof, he was certain that he would have been corrected sharply.

Courtney spoke then, her voice carrying clear. And though her words were for all the adults, her eyes settled on Arthur pointedly. "We _were_ careful. And I wouldn't say that it was stupid or reckless— it was really just a matter of proper technique, don't you think?" She tilted her head to the side, allowing the man to study her features for any sign of rebellion or intended contradiction to set him off. When he didn't, she smiled and broke her gaze from him. "Well, I'm going inside to dry off."

Duncan, who had been watching her intently, was turning to follow the girl as she slipped into the house when a voice drew him back:

"Oh, Duncan— stay out a minute longer, would you?"

Ignoring the pang of annoyance at having to let Courtney slip away from him while she was in a good mood, the boy glanced at the source of the request, and found his eyes landing on the aunt who had stuck up for him. She smiled widely, and invited him to sit in the empty Adirondack chair to her right. Once he had—somewhat reluctantly—settled into it, the aunt pressed her hand on his where it rested on the arm of the chair affectionately, saying, "I'm Courtney's aunt Elena, by the way. You must be so confused with all of these names to learn."

"Uh, kind of." Duncan glanced at the hand, then up at the relatives sitting around, whose smiling eyes were on him. "Hi."

"So," she raised both her eyebrows in the way people do when they're interested, "you and Courtney know one another from school?"

The boy nodded slowly, unsure of where Elena was going with this. "Yeah."

"And," she continued, "you two are friends, right?"

Anticipation hung mildly in the air as Duncan thought over his answer. It seemed best to answer with an expected, "Sure. We're friends."

At once he was aware of the adults turning to one another with knowing smirks, and suddenly Duncan felt his mind prick with suspicion. "Why do you want to know?"

Elena, without the warm smile on her lips faltering, slid her hand from Duncan's and folded it with her other, leaning into her chair. "Oh, you know, just curiosity."

There were several snippets of laughter, but they were suppressed as soon as they arose. Finally, Duncan's attention was directed towards a loud scoff from just outside the adults' circle.

A girl came sauntering up, having abandoned her magazine on the deck chair where she'd been lounging a moment before. She looked to be about a year or two younger than Duncan, and was wearing a hot pink bikini, oversized sunglasses perched on top of her head. Her hazel eyes landed on Duncan's, and with a raised eyebrow that somehow suited her features perfectly, she stopped at the side of his chair.

"They think that you guys are secretly hooking up or something." She sniffed, her eyes grazing over Duncan with interest. "I told them that that would be impossible, because you wouldn't go out with someone like Courtney, but they refused to believe me."

Elena leaned over and gave the girl a playful slap, punishment for both giving away their motive and the insult. "It's none of our business whether or not there's something between Duncan and Courtney." She said simply, though the slight smile twitching at the corners of her lips gave her away.

An uncle sitting across from them was much less polite. "Oh yes, it is!" He claimed loudly, his eyes squinting as he gave a hearty laugh. The woman to his left nudged him, smiling too.

"There's really nothing between Courtney and me." Duncan shrugged, and he saw the girl's eyes spark.

"I told you," she boasted to her relatives, her chin lifting slightly. "I told you. But you didn't listen to me." She smirked proudly, her eyes daring anyone to say otherwise.

With a chuckle, Elena leaned over to the girl. "He's too old for you, Kayla, sweetheart."

The girl flushed, both from anger and embarrassment, and took a moment to struggle between arguing her age and arguing her intentions. In the end, though, she merely huffed and sat on the edge of her aunt's chair, tossing a growled "_whatever_" over her shoulder as she did.

Feeling as though he'd answered enough, Duncan stood and retreated inside the house. On the way upstairs, he passed Courtney, and stopped. She paused mid-step as well, her stare fixing on him, and, having read his expression, saw the situation fit for a sigh.

"What did they say?" She asked with a voice that suggested a worn-out fear for the worst. Duncan raised a brow, playing dumb.

"What did _who_ say?"

Her expression fell to a glare, and she crossed her arms. "My family. Did they interrogate you? What did they ask?"

Hesitation caught Duncan as he sought an answer, and he decided that it was better if she didn't know. "Nothing."

But Courtney wasn't easily fooled. "Tell me, Duncan."

He shook his head, but just as he was about to slip upstairs and away from the girl's questions, he noticed something. "What's up with the sheet?"

Courtney's eyes dropped to take in the airy curves of her dress, flitting by the heels strapped to her feet. She glanced back up quickly. "We're going out to dinner."

Duncan's eyes, however, didn't stray. It was different to see her in a dress. It fit her well, and a smile fell atop his lips. "What kind of restaurant calls for _that?_"

Taking his interest as an insult, Courtney rolled her eyes, starting down the stairs again. Duncan caught her by the arm as she passed, ignoring her startled expression at the touch. "Relax, alright? I didn't mean it like that, don't freak." Courtney's patience still appeared short, but Duncan decided to ask his question again anyway. "So where are we going?"

"_I _am going to a nice restaurant in the next town over. _You _are staying here."

"Oh?" Duncan tilted his head to the side. "Says who?"

Courtney smirked. "The restaurant. They aren't exactly _child-friendly_."

"Ha. Funny." Duncan sneered in response. "Well, you can tell them to set an extra place at the table. I'm coming."

At this, the girl's lips parted. She gripped onto the railing, stepping up towards him. "No, you can't. I already made the reservations for a certain number and—"

"So? I can squeeze in."

Frustration reined in Courtney's eyes. "No! We aren't going to _Denny's, _you can't just _squeeze in_. Wait, Duncan—"

But he was hopping up the final steps, away from Courtney, a smile lingering on his lips. He shouted over his shoulder.

"By the way— you look good."

He didn't have to turn around to know that she was flushing.

* * *

When they had first met, Duncan had assumed several things about Courtney's family, the very first of which being that they were all rich and successful. That had proved true enough: they were doctors, lawyers, scientists. Their BMWs and Bentleys hid in the garage, Rolex and Tiffany glinted on their wrists— it was a clear enough fact.

But where his assumptions fallen short was with their personalities. Had he been aware of who he was staying with before he'd arrived, Duncan would have anticipated icy sneers, blunt criticism, and rigid schedules. But that wasn't what had greeted him. In fact, Courtney's family was made up of some of the friendliest, most accepting people he'd ever met. They hadn't dismissed him with cold judgement or shown any sort of biased disapproval. In fact, they seemed to genuinely _like _him.

That was certainly something Duncan—even before he knew that these people were relatives of Courtney's—hadn't expected. The way they were comfortable around him, the way they teased and joked and laughed with him just as they did with one another, was a surprise. It was something about their general nature that made Duncan feel at ease, finding a comfortable spot with them and forgetting any reputation he might have had to uphold. For the most part, at least.

Of course, that didn't mean that Courtney felt the same. She was still as snappish and energetic as ever, buzzing around the house with one responsibility or another. Her family kept trying to coax her into relaxing with them, to take a break, to socialize, but she often brushed them off and hurried on with whatever urgent chore taxed her at the moment, letting her relatives heave sighs and exchange knowing glances.

But there were times, brief moments where Duncan witnessed reluctance spring upon her. It was the way her body slowed when a family member called out to her, the way her limbs seemed to crave a moment with the relative. Or when someone would stop by as she finished laundry or set the dinner table, when her smiles were quick and lit up into her cheeks, when her eyes were glittering profoundly. But there was one force that could stop her in her tracks, still as the dead, and end whatever she was doing. And that force was Nan.

Duncan had heard little of the woman from his own grandmother, who had met her on some seniors' cruise several months ago, but he hadn't actually been able to understand who she was. Nan was a little woman, not even reaching Duncan's shoulder, but had enough spunk for the entire household two times over. And there was just something about the way she spoke, something in every word that passed from her lips that made Duncan's eyes slip to her and pause, if for just a moment, to hear the words. As comfortable as he was with the rest of the family, it was with Courtney's grandmother that he felt the truest respect for. She was honest, she was fair, and most importantly, there was not a single thing about himself that he thought could surprise her or make her think less of him. It was like she had read his core, skipped all of the labels and assumptions and seen the real person inside of him, the hidden side of him, the boy that had fallen for her granddaughter.

So it wasn't ever a surprise when Courtney stopped what she was doing for her Nan: the woman almost cast a spell over her. Duncan had never seen the girl look up to anyone before, never seen her care so much about a person, and it made his heart twitch, and the urge to be with her pulsed even stronger.

One could, then, imagine his excitement as he readied to join the others outside later that evening. The relatives would be dressed in their best: it wasn't just Courtney; this _was _going to be a swanky restaurant.

Which hadn't boded well for Duncan, at first. He hadn't thought to bring anything fancy, hadn't really cared that he might've needed to. But these were nice people, and now he was looking to impress the family of his (future) girlfriend. He had just been considering borrowing something of his father's when his mother had entered his room, a small bundle of material in her hands.

"Here." She handed it to him, and when Duncan unfolded the shirt, he raised an eyebrow to his mother.

"You went into my closet?"

Her smile was soft. "I didn't see anything, I promise. Besides, shouldn't you be thanking me?"

His eyes dropped to the material distastefully. "Uh, no. I had a black dress shirt, couldn't you have grabbed that one instead?"

Carol shook her head. "What's wrong with this one? I gave you it last Christmas."

"It's… _blue_." Not even navy. Full-on periwinkle.

"Oh, shush. You like blue. It looks good on you. It brings out your eyes."

Duncan fixed his mother with a dark look, but she just smiled and slapped his arm teasingly. "Just wear it. Besides," her eyes twinkled, "I'm sure Courtney will like it."

Before her son had a chance to respond, the woman turned on her heel and slipped out of the room. And even though he did so grudgingly, Duncan found himself meeting the others outside in that dreaded shirt. Kayla had a spiked brow for him.

"Nice shirt." She said, a warm smirk in the corner of her lips and a gleam in her eyes. "Where'd you get it?"

"I didn't." He shrugged. "And it wasn't my first choice."

The girl stepped closer, her smile amused. "Well, it looks—"

There was a snicker, and Duncan saw Kayla's expression darken as Courtney stepped around the boy.

"Oh, wow." The girl brought a hand to her lips, hiding the smile that had surfaced there as she studied the article of clothing. "_Wow_, Duncan."

Duncan was just parting his curving lips to respond when Kayla cut in sharply, her arms fixing across her chest. "I think it looks hot."

But as Courtney glanced over the entire ensemble, it appeared that her opinion would not be swayed. "Think what you want, I just find it bizarre to see Duncan in something so…" She let a snicker escape. "_Conventional._"

Duncan shifted closer to the girl, leaning towards her in confidence with a grin slicing across his face. Flushing, Kayla also moved nearer to catch his words. "Not as conventional as you think." And reaching up to the top button on the shirt, he undid it and the next four down, watching as the girls' eyes dropped to take in a black skull as it bled obscenely across the shirt he wore underneath.

Kayla giggled. Courtney scowled. A shout of laughter echoed ahead of them, and Duncan glanced up as a young man approached.

"Nice." He nodded towards the shirt. He looked to be a little older than Courtney, maybe nearing twenty, and Duncan had to rack his brain for a moment to recall his name. Andrew. He'd been introduced the first night. "So," Andrew continued, clapping his hands together and glancing at his cousins. "Are the four of us going to take my car?"

Duncan slid his eyes to Courtney, giving her a slight nudge. "What do you say, babe? Want to carpool?"

Courtney slipped her hands into fists, ignoring him as best she could, and started towards the garage.

"_Shotgun_."

* * *

They arrived at the restaurant fifteen minutes late, and by that time, Courtney was looking incredibly panicky. Her foot tapped anxiously aginst the floor of the car until Andrew finally found a parking space in the crowded lot, at which point she jumped up and immediately started for the building. She called behind her. "Well? What are you guys _waiting _for?"

Duncan smirked at her impatience, stepping out himself. But his attention was diverted from the girl as Kayla climbed out of the car and stepped up to his side, words ready. "We're already late, I don't know why she's bitching."

With a shrug, Duncan started for the restaurant too. The girl matched his pace. "This place is totally swanky, by the way." She continued. "They'll kick you out if you don't act like a complete snob."

"Yeah?"

She nodded, glancing up to meet his eyes. "Oh, yeah. This one time, when I was just a baby, my mom got kicked out because I wouldn't stop crying. Like, what the hell?"

The boy frowned slightly. "Wait— You guys have been here before?"

"Just about a _million _times. But not in the past few years, obviously. So anyway," she changed the subject back quickly, paying no mind to the look of confusion on Duncan's face. "That's why my younger cousins are staying back at the house. I was _this_ close to having to babysit, but I was like, no way. I wanted to break in my new dress." Kayla tugged at the hem of it, trying to draw Duncan's attention to the black fabric. He glanced the article over, suddenly distracted from his previous thoughts.

"Well, it looks hot on you."

The corners of her lips curled into a little smile. "I thought you'd say that."

Here, she met Duncan's eyes with a flickering look, as if her words were a secret between them. He met her gaze with playful curiosity, and couldn't help but notice the bright enticement storming her expression.

Duncan inclined his head towards Kayla softly. "And what made you think that?"

The girl shifted her warm eyes up to him, an eyebrow raising gently. She held them there for a moment, letting the boy read her expression, before her lips drew back and she laughed.

As they approached the entrance where Courtney was holding open the door and fuming, Kayla gave Duncan a soft slap on his arm. "Because," she said, answering slyly, a grin in her cheeks, "you have _great _taste."

There was a snort of disgust, and Duncan turned to glance at Courtney. She appeared to be biting her tongue, glaring in an entirely different direction. Kayla was quick to respond. "I'm sorry, did you want to say something?"

Courtney's gaze shifted to her cousin's, and though she looked ready to snap in return, she said nothing. Instead, the girl merely slipped inside, letting the door fall against Duncan's shoulder as she did.

A hostess was waiting to greet the teens, and she promptly brought them to a large round table where Courtney's family was awaiting them. The adults were conversing pleasantly as they approached, but soon began to tease. "What happened?" asked a smiling uncle over his glass of wine. "Did you get lost?"

Huffing, Courtney crossed her arms and gave an irritated shake of her head. "_No_. But Andrew's idea of a shortcut is awfully distorted."

"I took a couple of wrong turns." Andrew admitted with a shrug as he stepped over to an empty high-backed chair. Duncan thought that he was about to take it for himself, but was proved wrong as the boy instead pulled out the chair and took a step to the side. Andrew glanced at Courtney, who was presently looking rather disdainful with him, and nodded his head towards the seat. The girl stood angrily for a moment, reluctant, before she softened and took the chair with a slight smile touching her lips.

"Thank you," was her simple response, and Andrew took the spot beside her.

Duncan twisted his mouth to the side. Should he have thought of that?

A small sound reached his ears, and he turned to Kayla, who cleared her throat again and jutted out her chin in the direction of another empty chair. Her lips were smirking, and her eyes looked as though she detected the irony.

Feeling it too, Duncan snapped his hands against the sides of the chair and drew it out, bowing his head in obedience as he did. "_Milady_," he said with a grand wave of his hand. It was an exaggerated action, mocking the restaurant blatantly, and attracted a few glances from other diners as a burst of laughter escaped Kayla's lips. She slipped into the seat and reached back to grab Duncan's wrist.

"You're so bad." She snickered, letting the tips of her fingers run down the back of his hand as she slid hers away. He raised an eyebrow at her, and noted her wink.

_Huh._

He'd figured that she'd taken an interest in him— it was obvious enough. And while she was the exact type of girl he would have been flirting with at school, Duncan knew better than to think that she held any sincere feelings. He knew this girl; this girl was everywhere. She liked his lack of discretion, his rebellious nature, his disregard of rules and boundaries. She didn't like _him_— she liked the thrill of him.

Whereas…

Duncan shifted his glance over to Courtney as he settled into the last chair. She was rolling her eyes, clearly peeved, and had her hand clenched into a fist. Apparently, she didn't approve of his charade.

Looking around, though, Duncan could understand why. There was a bright bouquet of freshly cut flowers (over which his mother and Courtney's aunt Elena were gushing) sitting elegantly in the centre of their table, a glittering miniature chandelier suspended above their heads, and the distant sound of a piano being played wafting about them. It was all very proper, very dignified, very…

Not like Duncan.

He squirmed in his seat, annoyed with how plush the velvet was, and gripped at his napkin, wishing it was somehow rougher, or stained, or that it didn't match the draperies hanging across the windows so _precisely_— That it didn't make him feel soout of place. It wasn't that Duncan cared what these people thought of him—he didn't give a _shit _about what anyone thought (excluding, possibly, Courtney)—he just didn't enjoy being out of his so element. He felt anxious, like he would jump up and start sprinting at any moment. Anything to get out of here.

It wasn't any better when he began glancing over the menu. The prices were through the _roof, _there were twelve different kinds of water, the picture on the cover of the menu looked more like modern art than food, and what the hell was escolar? Was it a vegetable? A sauce? A kind of steak?

He started drumming his fingers on the table. His foot twitched back and forth rapidly. He leaned his elbow on one armrest, then shifted to the other, then back to the other. He wasn't even reading what dishes there were anymore; he was just staring mindlessly at the words, as if they were written in an entirely different language that he couldn't decipher.

After fifteen minutes and a remarkably snooty waiter later, he'd had enough. Duncan stood from his seat, and, without a single glance towards his father's immediate disapproving glare, stalked out of the restaurant.

The muggy air coated his skin as he made his way around to the back of the building, away from the expectations of the diners and towards something that he could sink into easily. Several of the busboys were smoking a distance from the back exit, crowded around a bench against the wall, and it was there that Duncan stopped.

He nodded towards them when they glanced up. "Hey."

One young man, close to Duncan's age, raised an eyebrow and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "You want one?"

The offer bounced back and forth in Duncan's mind for a moment before he finally accepted. It wasn't what he'd left for, but at that moment, it was inviting nonetheless. "Sure."

As he was about to light it, though, something cut him off.

"_Really_, Duncan?"

Courtney stood at the very corner of the building, her hands fixed on her hips. She stomped over and plucked the cigarette right from Duncan's lips, tossing it on the ground and kicking it away with the toe of her shoe. Her eyes latched onto his.

"Since when have you _smoked_?"

He shrugged indifferently. "I don't."

"That certainly isn't what this looks like."

"Then you clearly haven't looked closely enough, haveyou?"

She was about to fire something else at him, but stopped herself as she glanced towards the group of boys, who had been listening intently. Courtney made a face at their grins before she pulled Duncan around the corner and back towards the entrance. Out of earshot, she crossed her arms over her chest and demanded, "Correct me, then: do you smoke or not?"

Being given the chance to correct Courtney was something Duncan was usually eager to jump on, but right then, it brought him little satisfaction. "When I feel like it, yeah."

"But not all the time?"

Duncan clicked his tongue, looking away. "No. Only sometimes."

"Is that why you always carry that lighter with you?"

She'd noticed. "It's just handy."

Courtney nodded, looking a little more at ease. "Social smoking is still bad, though. You can become addicted after just a few even still, you know."

He sneered. "Thanks for the lecture, Mom."

The girl looked slightly taken aback at his sharp tone. She leaned away, the corners of her lips flexing downward. Her forehead creased. "What's the _matter_ with you? Why are you acting like a moody little child?"

Duncan sucked in his cheeks. "I just don't need you riding my ass about everything, alright? Just back off."

Courtney stared at him, her eyes so unwavering that Duncan started to become uncomfortable. The gaze remained unbroken for what felt like an eternity until finally, she blinked, and whatever concern she'd worked up disappeared. "Fine. I won't bother you, then." She turned on her heel and started towards the door.

With a wince at his mistake, Duncan reached out to catch her by the arm. "Wait, Courtney—"

"_Look_," she hissed, whipping around and glaring, "I really don't need this. I'm here to spend time with my family, not to argue with you. So spare me the drama, alright?"

She made to tear her arm away, but Duncan held on tight. And then, he said the one thing he knew she wanted to hear. "Yeah, okay—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get pissed."

Surprise sparked in Courtney's eyes, and she halted to study him. She nodded slowly, pressing her lips together and glancing away. "Well…. apology accepted." She slipped away from his grip, rubbing the tender red area on her skin where his fingers had been pressing as she'd wretched away. "Are we going back in, then?"

By 'we', she meant him. But Duncan didn't answer, didn't move, and his eyes dropped to her forearm. He reached out towards her, and, ignoring her immediate flinch, began to run his thumb over the mark gently as the red slowly receded. "You alright?"

He hadn't meant for the words to sound so soft, yet they had taken on a tender tone anyway. Courtney didn't let it go unnoticed: her eyes flicked up, her lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment, neither of them looked away.

"Yeah," she replied, her voice vague. "Yeah, I'm… I'm fine."

With the sound of her own voice, Courtney snapped out of whatever trance she had been struck into. She shook her head, breaking the contact, and started for the door once again.

"Hey, Courtney?"

She stopped mid-step. Her voice was tentative. "Yes?"

A breath caught in Duncan's throat. What did he want to know? What did he want to tell her?

At the very thought, his stomach turned over.

"What's escolar?"

The feeling fell.

Courtney glanced over her shoulder at him, her brows falling into a line as she frowned slightly. She might have been confused by the question, but Duncan found himself wondering, later on, if maybe she'd been disappointed."It's a kind of fish… I think they serve it raw here. Why?"

Duncan made a face, following after her.

"_Ugh_. No reason."

* * *

Though what had happened outside remained between Courtney and Duncan, the group knew something was up the moment they approached. Raised eyebrows and secretive smiles were sent their way as they took their seats, and Kayla was at once questioning.

"What was that?" She asked, trying to sound indifferent but falling short. Her fingers were hovering by the stem of her mocktail like they were prepared to pounce.

"Nothing." Duncan said, brushing off the question with ease. But the answer clearly failed to satisfy, and she prompted again:

"Seriously. You can tell me."

Glancing up, Duncan noted that the adults were also leaned forward in their chair, looking expectant.

He was just parting his lips to answer when a sleek explanation met his ears.

"Duncan thought that we'd accidently left the car lights on, so we went to check."

Courtney said it without hesitation, without insecurity, and it surprised him that she could lie so well.

Whether or not they bought it, Duncan wasn't sure— But either way, they were off the hook: the adults resumed talking, turning to one another and letting their voices rise and fall with their words. Except for Nan.

The woman's eyes were set on him firmly, and when Duncan glanced over to meet them, the gaze did not waver. She watched him, watched him looking back at her, for a long moment before her lips slid into her cheeks: a smile. Nan's eyes slipped to Courtney, slowly, and then refocused on Duncan. And even if she did not know all of the details, even if Duncan did not know how, he knew that she understood. In that moment, he was sure of it.

* * *

Dinner, like everything else, turned out better than Duncan had initially expected. The escolar, once he got past the raw factor, wasn't all too bad. And the restaurant, after he took a closer look at it, wasn't as snobby as he'd first thought— he'd seen more than one wince crossing a diner's face when presented with the bill. But above that, it was Courtney's family that made him feel comfortable.

It was the way they tried (and failed) to pronounce the exotic names of their dishes, the way they sniggered at the waiter's arrogant saunter when his back was turned. It was the way Andrew had spoken when he'd leaned over and said, under his breath, "Our family only come here for the food. If they served this stuff in a dumpster out back, we'd still be making reservations."

Which was why Duncan was enthusiastic enough when Andrew suggested that they go see a late movie at the local theatre.

"Do you honestly think we'll be able to agree on something?" Courtney pointed out with an eyebrow raised as they pulled out of the restaurant parking lot. She had been the only downfall of Duncan's evening: after what had happened outside, she'd distanced herself from him, refusing eye contact and biting the inside of her cheek every time he spoke. Courtney had called Duncan moody, but her attitude towards him seemed to change every minute.

Andrew reasoned with her. "It doesn't matter what we see, it's just going out and doing something that's the fun part."

"Still, I don't want to see something I won't like." She bit her lip slightly, then, thinking. "There _is_ that new drama that looks good…"

"Nuh-uh." Kayla waved the idea away with her hand. "No drama. Scary movies are more exciting, and I've been dying to see that new slasherflick for weeks."

Andrew turned to glance at his cousin. "You mean the one with the psycho killer that goes around murdering teens on prom night?"

Courtney rolled her eyes. "Oh, right, _that _scary movie. I was confusing it with _every other _slasher film ever made. Those movies are so predictable."

"Ugh, you're so stupid." Kayla snapped. "They're _not_ all the same, and you would know that if you actually watched one once in a while."

Duncan held up his hands to reinforce the peace. "Hey, look, it's no big deal— Courtney doesn't want to see a scary movie, so we'll just pick something else."

And maybe he should have left it at that, for the girl had taken on a small, appreciative smile at his words, but Duncan continued. "You know how easily she scares."

The smile flickered off.

Courtney reached a hand back to smack Duncan's arm—which he swiftly avoided—and snapped, "Don't try reverse psychology on me. It won't work."

He smirked, thinking back to earlier in the day. "You think so?"

"I know what you thought you were doing," she narrowed her eyes, craning her head around the side of her seat, "when you bet me that I couldn't jump off of the cliff. I did it because I wanted to, not because I wanted to prove you wrong. Don't look at me like I'm simple."

She swivelled back around, facing the dashboard. Kayla scoffed.

"What's with _her_?" Her lips curved and her eyes landed on Duncan playfully, but Duncan wasn't in the mood to flirt. He slumped in his seat, eyeing the loose strands of Courtney's hair ahead of him.

So she had known. When she had been falling, when the air had been blasting past her, when the water engulfing her angrily, she had known.

What else did she know?

"What's it going to be, then?" Andrew asked. "Slasher or drama?"

For a moment, no one answered. The only sound was of the hum of road beneath them and the whistling of wind from a window that was left open a crack. It was Duncan who answered finally, breaking the tense silence between them.

"Neither. I have a better idea."

* * *

"Duncan! This is _not_ what I thought you meant!"

She shrieked it, the words tangling in the wind that blasted around them. Kayla screeched with delight from the backseat.

"I mean it! Seriously, Duncan, this is dangerous— slow down _now!_"

She was right and he knew it. This wasn'tat all what she'd had in mind when he had suggested a drive, and it _was _dangerous. But Duncan had never been in such an expensive car before, such a _fast _car before, and there was no way he would slow down.

And as much as it seemed like Courtney's fierce disapproval would have been a buzz kill, in reality it only added more fuel to his flame. Every angry outcry from her made Duncan's need for power and excitement burn brighter, and his foot would slam harder on the gas pedal.

He wound around dark trees, clouds of dust exploding behind as he pressed on, on, on— as he tore down the empty dirt road like he owned it. Without wavering, without questioning, without thinking. Every part of his boy felt alive, exhilarated. Unstoppable.

Duncan liked that feeling. He liked it a lot.

The stars, little punctures in the expanse of the sky, seemed to be his destination. It didn't matter how fast they went, he craved more. More speed, more distance. He couldn't stop moving, he couldn't stop. Couldn't touch that brake. Wouldn't dare.

Until something caught his eye.

It was just a smudge on the horizon at first, something unrecognizable at the end of the long stretch of gravel road they had turned onto. Duncan squinted at it as it rushed nearer, and then he was easing up on the gas, and his sense of adrenaline was fading.

"What _is _that?" Kayla murmured from behind, her fingers curling around the side of Duncan's seat and nudging his shoulder slightly. "It looks like a weird old tower or something."

Courtney's eyes were fixating themselves on the structure slowly, and the shake of her head was soft. Her anger with Duncan fell into fascination. "No. It's a windmill."

A moment later they were slipping away from the trees and spilling out into a clear area, old farmland as it looked like. Duncan pulled onto the side of the road when they reached the windmill, slowing down and finally stopping. He turned the key in the ignition.

No one moved at first, but after a moment Duncan clicked off his seatbelt and turned to his passengers. "Let's go check it out." He said, an excited smirk filling the corners of his lips. Kayla unbuckled and leaned towards him eagerly.

"We should." She grinned. "Who knows what's in there?"

But Courtney shook her head. "This screams _bad idea_. That building must be at least a hundred years old— what if it collapses beneath us? No. There's no way I'm taking that chance."

Duncan glanced at the building, then at her. They locked eyes.

"Suit yourself."

He pushed open the car door, stepping out and starting towards the windmill. He recognized the sounds of Kayla and Andrew following close behind and Courtney's reluctant, protesting steps as his finger found the rusted latch of the door. The wood was soft where it brushed his knuckles, and a musty smell flourished around him as he lifted the metal and swung open the door.

Scratching sounded before them, and though Duncan couldn't be sure be sure, he suspected that the culprit of the sound had been rats. He mentioned this to no one, though, and continued through the doorway. A plank of wood creaked beneath the heel of his right Chuck, and Duncan made sure his steps were feathery as he slipped inside.

"It's dark in here." Kayla whispered, as if to not disturb something sleeping in the shadows.

The sunlight was waning: the dull orange just barely managed to seep through the spaces between the planks of the wall. Slipping a hand into his pocket, the boy pulled out his Zippo and snapped it open. The flame was small, but Duncan's hands and forearms were illuminated nonetheless.

He glanced at Courtney, who hovered disapprovingly just outside of the doorway. "I told you it came in handy."

She simply rolled her eyes.

The room was small, cramped with barrels and sacks of what Duncan could only assume was grain. It was dingy, muggy, and had a distinct sense of abandonment. The building seemed unused to activity—it whined in its own way with every step the teens took. Yet there was something soft about it, something comfortable that made Duncan feel as though he could have easily known the place his whole life.

"Check this out—" Andrew shuffled to the other side of the circular room, his hands finding something to grip. "It's a ladder."

Courtney crossed the threshold now, starting over to her cousin. As she passed the base of the mill, her fingers brushed across the old metal grinder, and she paused, eyes fastening themselves to the old machine. It was a moment before she finally shook her head, snapping out of her transfixion and remembering her cousin. "Don't even think about climbing up. That wood must be so rotten it'll snap like a twig if you try to put your weight on it."

"It doesn't look that bad." Andrew reasoned, tilting his head back to see what the stairs led to. "I'll be careful."

With a reassuring smile, he lifted a foot and set it firmly on the first step of the ladder. As Courtney winced, his swung his other foot to the second, and stopped for a moment.

The ladder groaned softly with the weight, but stayed intact, and with a grin Andrew continued to climb. A moment later he had reached the second floor and was calling down to them.

"C'mon!"

Kayla bent down and tugged off her heels. With the shoes hanging by their straps on her index finger, she made her way up the ladder, her bare feet curving around the wood. When she too had met the top of it and pulled through, she turned around and called through the opening of the wall to Duncan. "Well? Don't tell me you're too chicken!"

He was about to start up too, but then turned to Courtney. "Ladies first," he smiled.

Sneering at the sarcasm in his voice, she pointed upward. "Just climb, Duncan."

"Are you going?"

She crossed her arms. "Well, it looks like I'm going to have to. I'm the only one that has the first aid training necessary for when one of us gets hurt."

"And how are you so sure that someone's going to get hurt?"

Courtney pursed her lips. "Intuition. Now," she dropped her arms and nodded towards the ladder. "Climb."

"Now," he stepped to the side, "after_ you_."

He was being polite, wasn't he? Maybe not as genuinely so as she might've liked, but she still had to appreciate the attempt, right?

"Climb, pervert!"

Maybe not.

Duncan squinted at her, ignoring the beckoning sounds of Kayla above, and crossed his arms as well. "Oh, so what, now I'm a perv? The one time I try to be _nice_ to you?"

"Nice?" She spiked a brow. "Trying to look up my dress is considered _nice_?"

His eyes dropped to what she was wearing and studied it. He glanced at her with a cheeky grin.

"I'm surprised that I forgot."

She punched his arm and snapped, "Shut up, Duncan! Just climb." The girl exhaled heavily. "_Please_."

Grasping the side of the ladder, Duncan hoisted himself onto the first step. "Well, if you put it _that _way…"

Climbing up was easy, and when he reached the top, Duncan noticed Kayla's eyes sliding over his arms warmly. He couldn't help but flash her a smile— he appreciated the female attention. It was becoming more and more difficult to come by.

"It's crazy dusty up here." Kayla commented offhandedly, running a hand through her hair and dropping to slip her shoes back on.

Andrew shifted across the floor, the wood creaking noisily beneath his feet. "Yeah… How long do you think it's been since someone has been up here?"

"Judging by how run-down it is," Courtney said as she pulled herself through the hole in the floor, "and the development of the surrounding area, I'd have to say—"

"A long time." Kayla cut in, standing up. "We don't need the details, _thanks_."

Courtney glared sharply at her cousin, who returned it with a sneer. Duncan couldn't resist the urge to jump between them, raising an eyebrow at Courtney.

"Is this what you meant by _'intuition'?_"

The girl scoffed without removing her eyes from the younger of the two. "Believe me, if I could get away with it, she'd be at the bottom of that ladder right now."

Kayla narrowed her eyes and stepped up to her cousin. She cocked her head to one side. "You're just _jealous_ because D—"

"Alright, alright, we get the point." Andrew stepped between the girls, grasping both their shoulders and pushing them apart. "You hate each other, you'd kill each other, you don't want anything to do with one another. We get it. But let's keep moving, okay? There's nothing on this floor besides dust, but I think I see a set of stairs in the corner. We can check it out."

Andrew started for the staircase, inclining his head in that direction as he did, as if his cousins might just unfreeze from their spots. But a moment passed, and after neither had, he paused. Andrew shifted his eyes to Duncan, who did nothing but shrug.

"You guys go ahead," Courtney finally volunteered, her eyes still not straying. "I want to talk to Kayla for a minute."

The boys exchanged glances, but proceeded to follow her suggestion and shifted through shadowy room. They met the short flight of stairs Andrew had described and started up them, only for Duncan to stop before they met the top. The older boy shot him a confused look in the flicker of Duncan's lighter, creases forming in his forehead. But Duncan's only answer was to lean back and crane his head in the direction of Courtney and Kayla's whispering. He caught only snippets at first, but then their voices rose just enough for him to make out clear words.

"You have _got_ to stop doing this."

"Why do you have to be such a freak about everything? You aren't my mom."

"Would people stop _saying _that already— Look, you just don't want to get into this. Believe me, you don't."

"Oh yeah? Give me _one good reason_ why I shouldn't."

"Well, for _starters_, he went to juvenile detention hall!"

They were talking about him.

Duncan shifted closer.

"Oh, is that where you two met?"

A scoff. "Of course not! We met at school—"

"And did you guys date?"

He sucked in a breath.

"No! No, why would you even—"

"But you _wanted_ to. Is that right? And now you're just spiteful because he rejected you? Look, I don't care what happened between you. I seriously couldn't care less. But don't let it get in the way, alright? God—it's just for the rest of the summer. You act like I want to _marry _him."

The sound of a heel scuffing wood reached Duncan's ears then, and he gave Andrew a sharp nudge. They shuffled up the final steps as quietly as they could, scrambling for a faster retreat.

It proved unnecessary, though, as Courtney clearly had more to say. But what, exactly, she told her cousin, Duncan was unsure. Their voices were muffled by the floorboards, and he was unable to catch the thread of conversation before their footsteps reached the stairs and their voices fell to silence.

Kayla stepped out of the shadowy staircase first, acting as if nothing had occurred just a moment before. She let her eyes take in the room around her, and her eyebrows rose slightly. "This is kind of cool," was her mild remark.

Realizing that he hadn't looked around himself, Duncan tore his gaze from the brunette and let it brush against his surroundings.

This _was _kind of cool.

Considering how creepy the two lower floors of the windmill had been, this level was a bit of a surprise. For starters, they could see it better than the last. Broken patches in the cone-shaped ceiling above let the last flicker of sunlight stream in, casting itself across the floor warmly. A crooked window sat in one wall, half of its panes shattered on the floor. The glass shimmered in the light.

But it was the two metal posts as they met in a jumble of gears in the centre of the room that really caught Duncan's eye. One protruded from the wall, one sprung vertically from the floor; both were covered in a mess of grime and rust. And even with how still they were now, the boy could still manage to hear the creaking of the gears churning around one another, see the machine, the building, buzzing with activity. Smell fresh flour as it was being ground two stories lower. He could see the windmill when it hadn't been so empty, when it had been something of importance.

He glanced at the others to see if they were thinking the same. Andrew had dropped to pick up a shard of glass from the window, examining it closely and muttering something about stupid kids. Kayla's arms were crossed as she bit the inside of her cheek, feigning interest in the room when her mind was clearly still set on the subject of the argument moments ago.

Courtney was staring at the gears. The expression she wore betrayed her thoughts easily.

Her eyes jumped from part to part, from one section of the machine to another. Duncan knew that she was trying to make sense of it, trying to determine exactly how it all had functioned. With an arm hugging her waist, the girl stepped closer to it and slowly lifted her hand. She let the tips of her fingers press against the worn metal and a smile inch its way across her lips.

Mirroring her step, Duncan too brought a hand to the gear. His eyes flickered from Courtney to their hands and back again, but she didn't let hers stray as she spoke.

"I can only imagine was it would have been like to be here when it was in use."

Duncan nodded. "Yeah. Things must've been so different then."

"Yeah…" her voice was vague. "Completely different. I can't believe we never knew about this place before."

The boy's eyebrows drew together with a lack of understanding. "Before?"

She ignored him. Her mind was entirely focused on what was before her, so mesmerized. It was incredible to see her this way.

_She_ was incredible.

And then, without entirely understanding what he was doing, Duncan shifted his fingers over, brushing Courtney's. She blinked, but didn't move. He slipped his hand over hers, slowly, softly, feeling electricity vibrate through him as he touched her.

He was about to say her name, the _C _already forming on his tongue, when the girl pulled away abruptly, her face flushing brightly. She glanced at her cousins, announcing in a voice too loud for how quiet she'd been a moment ago. "I'm done. We should go."

Without another glance at any of them, Courtney turned in the dust and started for the stairs. Kayla was next to follow.

* * *

Duncan rested his head against the window frame, watching the sun as it peeked out from over the trees before him and ambled slowly into the sky. The boy blinked several times, trying to shake the sleep off of him, and rubbed the back of his neck. He exhaled.

A knock came from the other side of the room, and Duncan glanced over curiously. "Yeah?"

The door inched open, and it was Nan who poked her head inside. Their eyes met, and she stepped through.

"You are up." She gave an affirming nod. "I thought so."

The woman pushed the door to a close behind her as she walked towards Duncan. Her eyes flicked over the dozing form of Thomas in the bed beside Duncan's, and she smiled.

"He is a sweet boy." She noted. "Very mischievous. Like his brother, no?"

Her eyes twinkled as they reattached to Duncan's. She joined him at the window, regarding the view of the lake as it rippled over itself in the early wind. "So," Nan started, "you would like to date my granddaughter?"

Duncan flinched, startled at the directness of her words. He did his best to feign disinterest, though, and turned his eyes to the world on the other side of the window. "Kayla, you mean? She's okay, but I don't think I'd date her."

The smile on her lips didn't waver. "No, maybe not. Your eyes are too set on Courtney to see anything else, are they not?"

"Courtney?" He said her name as if it was new to him, like it had never crossed his mind before. "Nah, she's not really my type."

"Bah!" The woman slapped his arm, chuckling. "Stop this. You think you can lie to Nan? I have been around many years, many more than you— there is little that I do not see. You are like a book with her, so easy to read… Of course," she paused, letting her eyes peruse the lakeside view for a moment before she turned them back on Duncan with meaning. "Not for all."

Raising an eyebrow, the boy crossed his arms and glanced over the little woman. "What're you talking about?"

She shrugged mildly, obviously pleased with his sudden uncertainty. "Oh, what does this old bat know, anyway? I am sure you have the perfect plan to, ah, _get the girl_. Do you not?"

He shrugged. "I know what I'm doing."

"Mm, that is good." Nan waved her hand, her tone becoming conversational as she said her next words. "I was afraid that you would be like all of those other boys, those stupid, teasing boys. How can they think that they have a chance with my Maria? She does not give them the time of the day."

A crease formed in Duncan's forehead. "She doesn't?"

"Oh, no—she does not look twice." The woman shook her head. "With their laughing and their goofing, why should she? They cannot be taken seriously, so she does not consider them seriously."

Duncan fingers drummed on his forearm, troubled by the insecurity she had created in him. He wasn't used to the feeling. "But, I mean, she knows the difference between just some stupid guy and a guy that actually…" he sucked in his cheeks, doing his best to avoid the woman's eyes. "Actually likes her?"

The smile on her face twitched. "She knows when she chooses to know."

What was _that_ supposed to mean?

"But you do not have to worry about this, right?" Nan continued. "You have a plan."

Her accent rolled around the last word, like it was a joke on her tongue. Duncan bit the inside of his cheek.

"Yeah." the word sounded cocky in his ear. "Yeah, I don't have to worry."

Nan smacked his arm for a second time. "I told you not to lie!" She sighed, but the smile didn't leave her eyes. "But maybe it is better this way. She needs someone as stubborn as she is." The woman took a moment to reflect, bringing a hand to her mouth and pressing it there. When she looked back up at Duncan, her voice was softer. "I must ask you to promise this old lady something, Duncan, and I will trust that you can keep it."

Confused, the boy gave a faint nod. "Well… alright. Shoot."

Courtney's grandmother stepped closer, reaching up to hold either side of Duncan's face. She barely reached. "No matter what that girl puts you through, I want you to promise Nan that you will keep trying. No matter how difficult she is, do not give up on her." Her eyebrows rose. "Will you promise me this?"

Catching himself before he agreed too quickly, Duncan took a moment to think about it. He knew that Nan would know if he had given up on Courtney. She would know it before anyone else, even the boy himself.

Still, there was some appeal in knowing that Nan had so much faith in Duncan, so much in her granddaughter's returned feelings. If someone like her believed that it would happen, how could it _not_? Then again, she also felt it necessary for Duncan to pledge his commitment to the task of bringing them together.

How difficult would this become?

Regardless, Duncan agreed. When he did, Nan grinned fully.

"Good!" She patted his cheek and dropped her hands. "My Maria is a tough nut to crack, but do not let that discourage you. She will come around. Now," Nan started towards the door, having done what, as Duncan suddenly realized, she had set out to do even before she had entered his room. "I am going to start making our breakfast in an hour, when these late birds begin to rise. But for now, I think I will sit outside. This house is too big! It is lucky my son has the family to fill it."

Just before she slipped away, Duncan called after her.

"Hey, uh—Nan?"

She stopped. Looked at him carefully. "You are not taking back your promise, are you?"

"No," he assured her. "It's not that. I just wanted to know— why do you call her Maria?"

Nan seemed to soften. She did not respond right away, pursing her lips and thinking for a moment. Finally, she gave a slow, sad shake of her head. Her voice was different when she spoke.

"That is not for me to be saying."

Duncan tried to persist, but the woman slipped away then, easing the door shut behind her.

* * *

Every morning since the first, Duncan had seen a pair of teeny-tiny shorts sitting on Kayla's hips as she sauntered down the main hallway and into the living room. A patterned pair of blue and purple clouds, a Barbie-pink pair with bright white polka-dots, a plaid pair with thin silver stripes and a soft satin bow. All very cute, all very little. And he knew that she was aware of their length: she flaunted it. Her feet would prop themselves on the edge of the coffee table, letting the material hike up a bit higher and her legs curve in a way that Duncan was supposed to notice. In a way he _did_ notice. Nan did too, often raising an eyebrow and teasing, "Do not tell me that you have been shopping in the children's section! You are too old for that." And they would laugh, and the girl would let her lips mimic the contours of her legs as she smiled, her eyes falling on Duncan with a look that was meant only for him.

That morning, she wore sweatpants.

* * *

"Hurry _up, _Kayla. You said you wanted to go, so let's go!"

A huff reached Duncan's ears, and then Kayla was shouting down to her cousin.

"Yell all you want, it won't make me get ready any faster!"

Courtney growled low, and stormed up the stairs. Her footsteps were loud above Duncan's head as she made her way to Kayla's room, and he heard a cry as she opened the girl's door.

"Knock much?"

"We're going _hiking, _how dressed up do you need to be?"

"Well excuse _me_ for trying to be hygienic."

"Applying mascara doesn't count as practising good hygiene!"

Duncan glanced at Andrew, whose lips quirked in a smile. Duncan returned it, asking, "Are they always like this?"

The older teen nodded. "Always have been, even when they were little. But they have their good days, too."

Good days? "Really?"

Andrew shrugged. "They don't always get along, sure, but they don't _hate _each other. They have their differences just like any—"

Another exclamation from upstairs interrupted him: "Just put on a pair of running shoes and let's _go_. No one cares what you look like!"

"_I_ care!"

Duncan and Andrew exchanged smirks.

"So," Andrew slipped his hands into his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels. "You and Courtney go to school together?"

The younger man's eyes didn't stray from the staircase as he answered. "Yeah."

"And you… like her?"

Now he turned his head, caught off guard by the sudden question. "What?"

Andrew half-smiled. "Sorry. Just by the way you were acting, I figured…"

"Oh," the corners of Duncan's lips turned down. Had he been obvious, or was Andrew just good at reading people? For his own sake, his figured the latter. "Well— yeah. I do— but I liked her months ago, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And she knew it, but then she started going out with some jerk, and, you know…"

Why Duncan was spilling his secrets to someone he barely knew, he wasn't sure. But something about Andrew made him feel secure, reinforced the thoughts in his mind.

Andrew sighed in understanding. "Aw, man, that sucks. They must not have been really serious, though. I never heard about her dating anyone."

Duncan shrugged, refocusing his eyes back on the stairs. "I guess that's just it, she _wasn't _serious about him. She was just dating him because she—" He stopped.

"She…?"

Courtney's family was an inquisitive bunch. "I don't know," Duncan admitted truthfully, "not really. I guess she was just scared about how I felt—or how she felt, I'm not really sure—and used some guy as an excuse not to feel anything at all."

It took a moment of thought, but finally, Andrew nodded. "Yeah, okay, I understand that. She's never been the best with feelings. Leave her to plan a vacation and she'll have everything figured out perfectly, down to the very last detail. But make her sort out the way she feels and she's hopeless."

This was actually something Duncan hadn't realized before— For as well put-together as she seemed, her thoughts and feelings must have been a mess in her mind. He supposed that they were things that she hadn't deemed important enough to set aside time to organize. Or, maybe, she'd been too scared to.

The bedroom door slammed shut, and Courtney was stomping down the staircase, a cloud of anger swarming around her. She stopped before the boys at the foot of the stairs and glowered, her arms crossing.

"I'm not waiting for her."

She slipped past them and made her way to the foyer, letting the boys trail behind.

"We can't just let her hike to the clearing by herself," Andrew pointed out, "she'll probably get lost."

"She remembers how to get there."

"I don't know," he rubbed the back of his neck. "She was pretty young when we last went up… I'm pretty sure she'd stray from the trail."

Courtney crouched down to pull on her running shoes. "Or eaten by wolves, if we're lucky."

Duncan snickered, but Andrew sighed. "We can't leave her."

The girl shrugged, standing up. "Alright, well, if you two want to wait for her, that's fine. But either way, I'm going." And without waiting for a response, she grabbed the doorknob and stepped outside. Duncan glanced at the young man beside him, and gave an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, man, I've got to take this."

Slipping on his shoes, Duncan pushed through the door and hurried after Courtney. She turned, raised an eyebrow, and proceeded to say nothing for the whole hike.

Which, in its way, was better than any response she could have given.

* * *

"We used to come up here a lot when we were younger, before most of my younger cousins were born. We would have races and climb on the rocks and try to catch minnows with our bare hands." She paused, pressing her lips together as her eyes grazed over the view before them. "You know, kid stuff."

"Yeah," Duncan nodded, his voice sounding vague in his own ears. "Kid stuff."

It really was a beautiful view, a beautiful area. It was a clearing near the lake, hidden from the house by a ten-minute hike through the woods. The spot was large enough, and grassy, with a long, worn picnic table that sat near the path back to the house.

Something occurred to Duncan then, though, and his mind sparked with a mix of curiosity and confusion. "Hey, Courtney?"

"Yeah?"

"I thought you said that this was your first year here. That this was all new."

The girl turned to him, a shrug on her shoulder. "It is. Kind of— I meant the house. We used to have a little cabin a ten minutes up the road, but a few years ago my dad decided to build a new house closer to the lake. My family used to have to sleep in tents when we all came down for the summer, our cabin was so small. We had some fun times there, though."

Duncan nodded, but he knew that this wasn't all there was to it. She was keeping something from him. They were all keeping something from him. "But that was a few years ago. Haven't you been up since?"

Courtney didn't answer, staring out on the lake. Duncan was just about to ask again when suddenly he felt her hand snatch around his, and the jolt of energy in his stomach silenced the words on his tongue.

"Come. I want to show you something."

Lips melting into a smile, Duncan willing followed the girl as she led him to the far side of the site. There was a short drop at the edge of the clearing where the water nipped at a small beach, and the two stepped down it easily. Letting go of her grip, Courtney shed her running shoes and socks and waded through the water, down the edge of the beach. Feeling compelled to do as she had, Duncan kicked off his shoes and trailed behind, his feet curling over rocks as they slipped past the border of the clearing. Trees sprung up beside them instead of the grassy site, and they walked for only moment before Courtney halted. She pointed to the trunk of a tree beside them, drawing the boy's attention to a small etching high in the bark. With closer inspection, he realized that it was a jagged heart.

"My mom did that." Courtney explained, her voice growing smaller. "She brought my dad and his family to camp here back when they were dating. They rented the little cabin up the road for the first time, and have come up every year since." She traced the outline of the heart with the tip of her finger. "I found it when I was a kid. She'd forgotten about it until I showed it to her."

Duncan wasn't sure what to make of her words, yet couldn't help but realize something. "But not this year. She didn't come up this year."

Her eyes didn't lift from the heart. "My mom loved being here, she loved my dad's family. Everyone got along when she was around, everything seemed so… alive. And when she died, no one mentioned coming back. I honestly thought we never would. I pictured the cabin rotting away, uninhabited. But it didn't. A few years later, my dad tore it down, and built the new house. We tried coming up the first summer, but it just didn't feel right. And the next few years it didn't either. It was almost… wrong. Like we were trying to replace all of those memories. But this year— it was different. I mean, I'll be starting university next year, and Andrew's moving across the country in the fall, and… it was just time, you know? You can't stay in the past forever. You miss out on everything around you."

She seemed to say the last few lines to herself, her voice withering. And it was probably better that way, because Duncan had no idea how to respond.

He thought it was going to be about him. Relate to him. He thought she was going to say something that he could understand, talk about, argue over. He hadn't been prepared for this, for all she had pressed down on him. He hadn't been ready to see this side of her, this vulnerable side, this hidden side. What was he to say to it?

Still, something was better than nothing, so he offered: "I'm sorry about your mom, Courtney." It felt weird on his tongue, but he meant it.

Courtney turned to him, her brow heavy against her eyes. "Don't be sorry_. _Sorry doesn't do anything. Sorry is just a word, a useless word, and I really don't need pity from you. I don't." She shook her head, annoyance buzzing around her. "That's not why I told you everything. It was years ago, I'm fine. I told you because I wanted you to know, so you'd stop asking everyone stupid questions."

Duncan raised his palms in defence, leaning away from the girl. "Alright, alright. I wasn't trying to _pity_ you. I wasn't. What else am I supposed to say?"

"It'd probably be better if you didn't say anything, Duncan." She exhaled, biting the inside of her cheek for a moment. "Look, I just… I didn't bring you here so we could have some weird sentimental moment, and I don't want you to think that I did."

But they had. They _had_ shared a moment. And maybe she was being defensive and embarrassed about it now, but Duncan knew that it'd happened. Just like everything else had happened, all the other things that she had pushed aside. How she had dismissed how well he was growing to know her, her habits, her opinions— He didn't know everything, of course he didn't, but he was as close as anyone had ever been, nearly as close as he could get.

Nearly.

"Then why did you bring me here?" he asked, the words sitting between them, soft but harsh in its knowledge. In what he knew, but she didn't.

Courtney lips curved down. "I already said. Because I wanted to tell you, so you wouldn't ask about it anymore."

He studied her. And studied her. He'd spent so much time studying her, and watching her, and thinking about her. But how much good had it done him? Where had it gotten him? How much had it helped him when he was sitting in Geography class, hoping their paths would intertwine? How much had ill-wishing her and Tyler helped him get closer to her?

It hadn't.

But he _was_ getting closer. One step, two. And her eyes were frantic, expression startled. And everything slipped from Duncan then; his words falling softly against her.

"Really? You think? You really, _really _think that? You think that all you've ever done with me has been because you had to?"

She flinched. "Well, I guess, yeah… I mean, it— what are you implying?"

But he wasn't implying. He just knew. He knew. And somewhere inside of her, she knew too. She wanted him to get closer, so subconsciously, the feeling buried deep within her. She'd always been so scared of him getting close— but that was fading. Sometime, somewhere along the way, it had started to. Duncan had seen a glimpse of it in her eyes months and months before, but he hadn't understood. He hadn't known her then. But he did now.

So he pressed. A gasp flitted over her mouth, but he quickly covered it, feeling only the burning heat of her lips. Because he knew that her lashes were fluttering against his cheeks, that the hand he had grasped was stiff and unbending, that her whole body was rigid with surprise, but he couldn't feel it. He could only feel the warmth of her, the warmth she had feigned as ice, the warmth she had kept from him. He felt it, so strong a connection that everything else in him failed, and it was only her.

But not for very long.

"Oh my God_— _you _slut_!"

Courtney flew from him abruptly, her eyes wild as she whipped around. Duncan's eyes followed hers, colliding with Kayla.

The girl's lips were parted, her eyebrows raised, her eyes amused. She had a hand snapped on to her hip, and was staring intensely at her cousin.

"Oh, yeah," she scoffed vividly, "you have _no_ interest in Duncan. It was all one-sided. I knew it was bullshit! Seriously, how long have you guys been sneaking around? The whole time? I can't believe I didn't see this before— it's so obvious!"

"Kayla," Courtney's voice was low.

"I mean, c'mon— you're little miss goody-two-shoes, I never thought you'd be hooking up with _anyone_, never mind Duncan!" She laughed loudly. "But no, Courtney has to have everything—"

"Kayla,"

"—not one thing can slip by her, oh _no. _God _forbid_ she not bag the delinquent, because oh yes, she's a can-do kind of—"

"Kayla!"

The name echoed sharply, piercing through any sound by them. Kayla stopped mid-word, her eyes blinking and widening. Courtney's next words were steady, slow, forceful.

"Go back to the house. Take Andrew. Go now."

The younger girl drew her eyebrows together. "But, I—"

"I said _now_."

Her voice broke with the last word.

For a long moment, Kayla was silent. She stared at her cousin, mouth slightly agape, her forehead crinkling and smoothing and crinkling again as she studied Courtney's expression. But then, as she saw that the girl's look was unwavering, something seemed to give way in her. She nodded, slowly, and let her eyes soften. Her lips pursed, looking caught between two things, before she finally turned and retreated the way she had come.

Courtney didn't move for a while, so long that Duncan finally felt compelled to step up and touch her arm, bring her back. But she jumped, writhing away from him and whipping around.

"_Don't_." She snapped, her eyes flaming. He could see her composure unravelling furiously before him. "Don't _even_."

Duncan stepped back, pausing, and then his eyes narrowed against her. "Why?" he demanded, feeling his jaw clench unsteadily. "Give me one good reason why."

"Because!" She snapped, her chest heaving with breaths. "You can't just go and kiss me, and hold me, and do whatever the hell you want with me. How many times do I have to say it? How many times do I have to tell you before it breaks through your skull? I don't like you, I don't need you. I didn't then, I don't now. I don't want you!"

The last sentence was shouted, filling Courtney's cheeks with colour and bringing a rush of renewed vigour into Duncan.

"You don't mean that." He said, low. "I felt it. I _felt _it, Courtney. We both know that you did too, so why don't you save us both the trouble and admit it already?"

"Ugh!" she curled her hands into fists. "You're so full of yourself! Not every girl is falling over themselves to get to you, not everyone wants you. Especially _me_."

She was lying. Duncan could feel it in every part of his body, and it pained and tortured him to the furthest extent. But what was worse was that she knew it too: he could read it in her eyes, in the eagerness of her defence. And it infuriated him.

"You know that's not true. You knowit! And you still won't say it, you _still _won't say it." The words reached out to her, stretching and grasping for her. See it, they cried, see _me._

But she was too blind to see, her entire body unwilling. "Even if I did like you, why would I say it? I'm not an idiot, Duncan— I know what you want. I know that you don't really care. You just like the chase, and I'm won't have it."

The chase? The _chase? _"You think that?" he asked, brows screwing together fixedly on his forehead. "After all of this time, after _everything_, you really believe that?" There was no way. He'd been forward. He'd been honest about everything. "Bullshit."

"What else am I supposed to believe, then? That all of the games you play are because you're serious about anything? That you act the way you do because you see something real with me? Is that it? Because all I see is a stupid boy that didn't get what he wanted when he wanted it, and now he won't stop until he has it."

And there it was. There was the piece if the puzzle that he'd been missing and was now found, the layer that had been obstructing his sight now peeled off. And he knew that this time, she wasn't lying about anything.

Because he could see something hurt in her eyes, something wilting. This was really what she thought of him, the link that had been absent. Before the summer, before Tyler, it was a link newly constructed. She had seen something real in him, for just a moment, and had fled, scared. But Duncan hadn't followed, hadn't waited. Hadn't needed her.

Had that been why she'd done it all along? In her subconscious way? Had she dated someone else to see if those affections, the feelings that had sprung into Duncan's eyes had been real? And when he hadn't looked for her, hadn't sought her, hadn't seemed to want her anymore, had that concluded something for her? That his only ambition had ever been for her to fall for him, to need him, to _love_ him, and be conquered?

And now she thought that he was trying to get closer, trying to reach out to her—just to break her.

But that wasn't true. That was nowhere _near _the truth. Of course he'd cared, of course he'd needed her. And he hadn't forgotten, never had he forgotten. She had made her mark on him, and he could never be without the thought of her.

Stupid boy. Stupid boy. Her last words rang in Duncan's ears. He was a stupid boy. He thought she'd known, he thought that he'd be unbelievably clear about how he'd felt, thought that everything had been blunt and honest. But she didn't know—

Because she didn't want to. It was easier not to.

The easier route had done nothing for Duncan, and it would never make Courtney happy. Duncan was done with the easier route. He was done hoping things would just work themselves out. He was done.

And he would show her.

"_Fine_. You know what? You're right."

Courtney's brow furrowed.

"You're completely, absolutely right." Duncan continued. "And I didn't know that until now. Games are stupid. They don't work. But I thought they did."

She attempted a sneer but didn't seem to be in control of her features. "G_ood for you, _Duncan_, _but I honestly don't care what you thought."

"But," he started, and the girl looked fretful at the word, "you were wrong when you said that I just want the chase, that I just want what I couldn't have before. I didn't know that you thought that."

Courtney exhaled, crossing her arms. She glanced around for a moment, before breathing back in and looking at Duncan again. "Really? And what— am I supposed to believe you?"

"Yeah."

The girl stared at him, trying to decipher his calm demeanour. "Well, I _don't_. So just drop the act and—"

"Because I love you."

He hadn't actually meant to say it. He hadn't even thought of the words before they slipped. But they were there, and then she knew.

Courtney drew back, blinking. She shook her head. "No, Duncan, don't—"

"I love you." He said it again, because the words were strange on his tongue. He really _did_, though— it was incredible, like something had flourished inside of him suddenly. Like everything that had been a mystery was suddenly bright before him. And after those words, he couldn't stop.

"I do. I _do_. And I'm tired of pretending like I don't, and playing games, and not being with you. I like the chase because it leads to _you_. I played games because I thought they'd lead to _you_. And I don't care if you don't want to hear it, because you have to: I love you."

Duncan's mind whirled.

The girl didn't move. She looked thunderstruck there, standing motionless, the only indication of life inside of her being the hurried blinking of her eyes. And then, suddenly, she stumbled back, arms uncrossing. She looked slack as she backed away, like a marionette with cut stings, and then she was shaking her head. Slowly at first, then a flurry of trembles.

"No. You're just— no, no, that's not— I mean, you couldn't possibly, actually…"

Her words, like her feet, were tripping over one another. She was moving away, away from him, away from what he'd said. And then she was leaving, running, snatching her shoes off of the ground and tumbling away. And Duncan didn't follow.

Because he didn't need to.

Because this time, she couldn't get away.

* * *

It was up to her.

There was truly nothing that Duncan could do. He'd done it all. And maybe he should have felt powerless with this, but he didn't think he could.

He'd said it. He'd actually _said _it. And maybe she would think that he was crazy for it, but Duncan didn't regret it. Because now he didn't have anything to hide, didn't have to feel constricted by the feeling. And so what if it had made her uncomfortable? It was inside of her too: maybe not quite as strongly, but Duncan knew that she felt it too. And that knowledge was enough to keep him in somewhat high spirits.

She, however, did not partake in his cheerfulness. It was the first time Duncan had ever seen her looking _awkward: _she reddened when he entered a room, torn between the anger she supposed she should have felt and the embarrassment she actually _was_ feeling. She did her best to avoid speaking to him directly, but when the moment came when she was forced to address him, her words were simple and hurried. Duncan, for his part, always answered simply, making a point to graze her fingertips with his when he passed her a bowl at the dinner table or bump knees with her as he made his way past. And she would toss him a glare, a low growl, and would bite the insides of her cheeks when he asked if, oh, she had something more she wanted to say, possibly?

But as much fun as Duncan was having, he couldn't say that she was reaching out at all. A week had passed since he'd told her, and she was still avoiding him as much as possible.

For his part, Andrew hadn't been much help. He'd merely raised his eyebrows when Duncan had explained the situation, offering a shrug and a wince. "Well, Courtney's a little… _unpredictable_, so who knows what she'll do. Maybe everything will click for her and she'll come around."

"Or…?"

"Or she'll never speak to you again."

Lying in bed later, the words tossed unnervingly inside of Duncan. Over and over they turned, twisting and churning his stomach, his mind unsettled. What if she really did never speak to him again? He could handle her anger—he _liked_ her anger—but the thought of her absence made him nervous. The thought of her being gone dug a hole into his chest, cold and empty, needing her. Because she _had _become a part of him, and there was no chance for her to be removed painlessly.

A whisper of a breath echoed nearby, and Duncan turned his head to glance at the sleeping silhouette hidden beneath sheets in the bed across from his. Thomas then mumbled something unintelligible, his brow flexing in a dream.

Duncan glanced back at the ceiling, his hands fixing behind his head. Tomorrow was their last day, and with the end of it and the early of the next morning, he would lose all ties to Courtney. She was obligated to put up with his presence while they stayed in the same house, but once they were back in school, under those fluorescent lights, she wasn't bound to him in any way. He could go weeks without seeing her, maybe not speak to her for months— and it was likely. Theirs was a large school; she could slip away without a single person knowing. Including Duncan.

Which placed a significant amount of anxious pressure on the boy— they were set to leave in a mere (he sat and craned his neck for a glance at the alarm clock) ten hours. Ten. And most of those would be spent sleeping.

So he cast his eyes on the door, a glare, and waited. He stared at it and waited, just as he had done all week. He knew that he wasn't alone in letting his thoughts run loose in the night; she would be thinking of him too. And it had occurred to him that if she was to make a revelation, the present was as good a time as any.

Still, he jumped with alarm as the door swung open.

It was her. It was her. His heart slammed wildly in his chest as she sauntered across the room quickly. But Courtney didn't saunter. At least, she wouldn't have been doing it now: she would have paused by the door, of course.

Kayla tiptoed to him quickly, her face becoming clearer in the dark as she approached. Since what had passed between her and Courtney, since the moment they'd had, she hadn't thrown so much as a single coy smile in his direction. It was like the flirt in her had been turned off, and the cousin restored.

But now her words were urgent, direct. "Okay, you're up— good. Come with me."

"What for?" Duncan asked, in no hurry for whatever she had in mind. The disappointment of seeing her instead of Courtney still lingered.

The girl pressed her lips together for a moment, the edges forming an excited smile. With her hushed words, Duncan knew that she was in tune to the first thought on his mind. "Andrew's bringing her, I swear. But you've got to be quiet, or else you'll mess everything up."

Narrowing his eyes against her and sitting up, Duncan studied Kayla. The thought rolled around in his mind for a moment, before he decided to take her demand seriously. "What are you talking about?"

Kayla's eyes slipped to his torso. As Duncan glanced at her, the girl gave a small smirk and shrugged, not even trying to hide the fact that had been staring "Andrew's going to bring Courtney to the dock, and I'm supposed to bring you. She doesn't know, though, so don't spoil everything by making noise."

It took a moment to register. Was this a chance? An opportunity? Something leapt in Duncan, and he jumped out of bed eagerly, tearing across the room to find something to wear. He was just scrambling to pull on his jeans when Kayla spoke again.

"You really like her, don't you?"

Duncan slowed, glancing over at the girl. He bit his lip sheepishly. "Yeah… Yeah, I do."

She nodded slowly, and it suddenly occurred to Duncan that he hadn't ever really considered her feelings. He'd always thought them so shallow, so temporary— nothing to become upset over. Nothing to worry about. And because of that, he'd flirted back, had a bit of fun with the girl. Led her on. Duncan felt the need to say something about it now. "Hey, look, Kayla—"

"Don't." She held up a hand to stop him from continuing. "It's okay. You like Courtney. I have no idea _why, _but nothing I can do will change that. Just don't break her heart, alright? Because then you'll have to deal with me, and your ass _will_ be kicked."

A small smile etched on Duncan's lips. "You're cool, you know that?"

"I do." She agreed, abandoning all modesty. "But moving on… get dressed! Do you _want _to miss her?"

When he had finally dressed, they made their way through the house to the living room downstairs. The screen door was slick as it opened, just a hum of noise, and didn't catch Courtney's attention from where she stood on the end of the dock. As Duncan and Kayla grew nearer, he was able to make out the words that she was saying to Andrew.

"I don't see it. Where did you say it was again?"

Andrew was tapping his foot anxiously. But when he glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of the two of them padding softly across the grass, relief flooded his features, and his answer was casual: "Oh, you know, off to the side there, near those tall trees. It had great big antlers— you can't miss it."

As Kayla's foot tapped on the wood of the dock, Courtney finally turned around. She looked mildly surprised, and frowned at her approaching cousin. "Did we wake you or something?"

Kayla giggled. She stepped up to the girl, wrapping her arms around Courtney's shoulders and saying, "You're going to _hate _us for this."

Leaning away, Courtney brought her eyes to Andrew for an explanation. He only shrugged, a half-smile alighting his lips.

And then Courtney's gaze landed on Duncan, and she blinked. Then her lips parted, and she was shaking her head as her cousins began to retreat to the house. "What— no. What are you guys doing? If I wanted to talk to Duncan, I would have. Why are you—" She glared now, clenching her teeth and curling her hands into fists with one finger loose, which she used to point at Duncan. "What is your _problem_?"

"This wasn't my idea. They didn't tell me anything."

Huffing, Courtney pushed past him and started after Andrew and Kayla. But they had already slipped inside, and when she tried to open the screen door, it wouldn't budge. Her fist smacked against the glass.

"This is _ridiculous_. Unlock the door!"

When they didn't respond, she pivoted on her heel and stormed back to Duncan. Her eyes were furious.

"Get them to open the door."

The demand was sharp. Duncan eyed her simply.

"No."

Her breath was rigid. She ground her teeth harder. "_Duncan_."

He remained unfazed. "Courtney."

They stared at one another. The girl's chest heaved up and down, her eyes searching his face excitedly. She was looking for a breaking point, a crack in his structure. But he was smooth.

Then she turned, stomping off to try another door. Duncan exhaled, and, stuffing his hands in his pockets, shifting over to sit on the end of the dock, allowing his legs to dangle. He could hear Courtney's angry grunts in the distance, but he did not glance back once.

It was a nice night. The sky was clear of clouds, the stars shimmering starkly above him. Beneath his hovering feet, the lake was black, a glowing disk balancing in the centre of it. He touched the tip of his foot to it, and the water rippled out placidly.

When Courtney did find her way back, Duncan had become comfortable in his spot, and was not unnerved by the loud thumps of her steps. She heaved a sigh from behind, and snapped at him.

"What am I supposed to do _now?_"

Duncan didn't respond. He leaned back on his palms, staring out over the night calmly. At this, Courtney seemed to falter in her anger.

"Well?" she prompted, annoyed. When he still didn't answer, the girl muttered several words under her breath and stalked over to stand at his back, the side of her shoe brushing his thumb. "Duncan?"

He glanced up, slowly meeting her eyes. She looked expectant; of what, he was not sure. Courtney held the expression for a long moment, waiting, before her features finally softened into faint confusion. Duncan's eyes must have been deadpan, for she said, "Stop looking at me like that."

With a mild shrug, Duncan returned his stare to the water before him. It was a minute before Courtney moved, but finally she crouched down to sit beside him, a good foot or two away. She took in a breath, and did not speak.

Silence swelled between them; whether it was awkward or patient, he did not pause to notice. He only knew the sound of waves falling over themselves, over and over, rhythmic. He marvelled at the simplicity of it: it was odd to think that anything was that easy, that plain. Just one motion, repeating itself again and again until the sound seemed to echo inside of him.

Duncan thought back to their moment in the windmill. He thought about the way his hand had fit over hers, the way they had seemed joined for a moment. The way sparks had flown between them, how flawless and pure the sensation had been. And how amazing and real the touch of her lips on his for the very first time had been, how he could remember the intense jolt beneath his skin so clearly, so perfectly. How he could never lose those feelings, how they were imprinted within him.

But she wouldn't see it, feel it, remember it. She could only push him away farther and farther, act like he didn't even exist. Because she didn't want to be with him, not on the surface, and he could do nothing to change that.

He'd tried to. He'd tried so, so hard. He'd done everything he could think of, used every trick he knew to make her see how good they'd be together. And he had nothing. Nothing.

And it made Duncan feel broken to know that he had nothing. That in the end, he came out a loser. That the one thing he'd really wanted, the one thing he would have done anything for wouldn't be his. That everything was lost, and everything _sucked._

It wasn't anger that he felt. He'd felt anger, frustration, disappointment with this girl, but this feeling wasn't like any of those. It was different. He was just…

Sad.

Duncan knew how to act on anger, how to solve frustration, hide disappointment, but he didn't know how to handle sadness. Didn't know if he could. It was foreign to him, something he couldn't quite wrap his mind around but still felt unconditionally. And the more he thought of it, the more the feeling overwhelmed him. It was slipping further and further into his consciousness, revealing more of itself with every passing second and scaring Duncan more and more. He didn't like this feeling. He didn't like it at all.

His breaths became quicker, his head started to spin. The words sounded again and again in his mind: _You're losing her, Duncan. You're losing her for good this time._

He wanted to scream, to thrash, to hit something and make it hurt. He wanted the mess he'd gotten himself into to go away, the mistakes he'd made to reverse themselves. He wished he'd never met her. Wished her hair hadn't been so liquid in the fluorescent light when she stood, wished her eyes hadn't been so bright and her features so clear. He could hear her voice from that day, the one they'd first spoken:

"_Can I help you?"_

He hadn't known that things would be like this. He hadn't known that he wouldn't be getting this girl, that nothing would ever work. Had he known, he wouldn't have spoken to her. Approached her. Let himself even _think _of her.

Or would he?

No, no. No. Not with what he would go through. If he had known, he wouldn't have cared about her. Wouldn't have fallen in love with her…

He would have. Even now, when everything was shit, he still would have done it. He would do it over again and he would do it four more times after that. He loved falling in love with her. He loved that he loved her. Loved someone.

Maybe that was all he was ever meant to have, all he was ever meant to get from her. Maybe he was only meant to love her, and not be loved back, and feel like an idiot and be an idiot, and get what he deserved. He'd done things he shouldn't have done, so maybe this was his karma. Juvie hadn't made him care, hadn't made him even _want_ to care. But she had. Without trying to or wanting to, she had made him care. And he loved her for that.

For someone, somewhere, that might have been enough. That might have been the conclusion of their story, the destination for their journey. For someone, it might have ended there. But for Duncan, it brought him nothing. No closure, no finality; just more sadness. And it read on his face.

"…Duncan?"

He hated the way she said his name; she would never say it like that again: so softly.

Her brows were drawn down, looking frantic. He didn't even try to say something to excuse the speed of his rising and falling chest; there was no point. She knew everything. And whether it bothered her or not to see it, he didn't care. He couldn't have cared. Because either way, she still barely knew the half of it.

But he couldn't stay there. He couldn't stay sitting next to her, stay that close to her. He needed to move, to run; to get away from this and everything else he couldn't take. Duncan stood and retreated from the spot.

It would have surprised him how quickly Courtney moved to follow him had he paid any attention. She was right behind, but as soon as Duncan was aware of it, he started to pick up the pace. He needed the feel of his legs working, his muscles working. He needed to move.

So he started to run.

Duncan wasn't sure how long he ran for; time didn't exist. He just ran, finding a trail in the woods and taking off. He didn't know if Courtney was following and didn't glance back to check, just kept pushing past the mess of the forest until he finally broke through it. He'd reached the clearly. The one where he'd kissed Courtney.

He stumbled over to the water. His shoes were on, but Duncan didn't care. He waded down the shore and let them fill with lake water and sand until he reached the spot. It took a moment to find the tree, but he did, and he let his fingers run over the etched heart as Courtney had.

Nan had made him promise not to give up on her. And when he had said that he wouldn't, he meant it. He thought he would never have to, thought that the promise was pointless. He thought that he'd never be there again, never feel like he'd have to give up. He'd been overconfident, and just a short time later, here he was.

Had she been mistaken? Duncan had figured that if Nan had believed that he and Courtney were meant to be, then that was the truth. But how could it be? When everything was so broken? How could she ever let herself feel the same?

"You really want this, don't you?"

Duncan turned his eyes from the tree and let them fall on Courtney. He didn't answer; the look resting there must have been enough.

Courtney turned the flashlight in her hand around nervously. "I understand, Duncan, but I just…" Her voice faltered, and she cleared her throat before starting again. "I don't think we should do this."

The way she said it, it sounded like she was speaking only logic. Like it was all so simple, so perfect, so straightforward. But it wasn't that simple, and Duncan wanted to shut her out again.

So he looked away, but found his eyes falling on the heart again. And he remembered when he'd first laid eyes on it, and remember the thought that had sprung to his mind.

"I wanted to carve out a heart for us below it. On the day that we… got together. I was going to sneak up here in the middle of the night and carve it out, then go back and bring you to see it."

It was lame. He knew it was lame. He knew it at the time the idea had occurred to him and he knew it now. It was embarrassingly cliché and everything he hated about chick flicks and romance novels and stupid couples that hold hands in the hallway and talk about how much they love each other even though no one else cares or wants to see. It was so against him, so absolutely contrary to his very being and everything he stood for that it made him sick. And he loved it.

Courtney stared at the tree, her eyes maybe grazing over the very space Duncan had picked out for their heart. And then she frowned, and she bit her lip, and she shook her head.

"You wouldn't do that. You're _Duncan_—You wouldn't do something like that."

He countered. "And I wouldn't like you. And I wouldn't do everything to make you like me back. And I'm not actually here right now." He shook his head, sighing. "Why is this just so hard for you to accept?"

"It's not." She blinked quickly, shaking her head. "It's not that. I just don't—"

"Want to." He finished for her. It was easy to. The words just slipped from his lips, barely grazing the air around them. "You just don't want to see it. You don't want it to exist."

She didn't object. Not right away. Duncan didn't stop.

"Because you're scared. It doesn't make sense to you, it isn't normal to you. It makes you feel weird, _I_ make you feel weird. And that freaks you out."

He didn't try to keep it in: he would have burst.

"And you don't want me to be close." That was it, that was everything. She didn't want him close. She didn't want to be linked. "You don't want anyone to be close."

Courtney still didn't answer. She just stared at him, her lips barely agape, her eyes trying to understand something other than the obvious truth. Trying to see a different explanation, something that would prove everything Duncan said wrong and everything she thought right.

But she didn't.

It hit her visibly: her eyelashes fluttered, her brow creased. She turned her head a little bit, as if she was trying to see the situation in a different light, but it didn't help. And then he could see it sinking into her, and his heart revved.

"I don't want to like you, though…" She was talking to herself. "And I can handle the fact that you _like_ me, but love…?"

Courtney glanced at the heart suddenly, stared, then suddenly snapped her eyes back to Duncan. And then she did the weirdest thing.

She took a quick lunge forward and thrust her hand into the front pocket of his jeans. Duncan jumped, startled, but Courtney took no notice as she pulled that hand out and dug it into his second pocket. This time, she found what she was looking for: his knife.

Slipping open the blade, she stepped past the boy and leaned toward the tree. With unsteady strokes, she started to carve something.

A heart.

A _heart._

The girl stepped back after a moment to glance over her work. She pushed the knife towards Duncan, ignoring his flinch at the blade.

"Carve our initials."

He stared at her, but she only met his gaze with a look of impatience. "What, did you suddenly forget how to use this thing? I can't do it as well, so _start_."

It was better not to try to make sense of it. Duncan took the knife from her and began to carve. When he'd picture this in his mind, things were different.

A minute later, he was finished, and moved aside so Courtney could see.

_D+C_

It was so simple, but it had the girl as transfixed as she had been at the windmill. Her eyes were steady on the carving, barely shifting as she took it in.

And then Duncan realized what she was doing.

She was giving them a chance.

Courtney was trying to see how the thought of them would feel. Trying to register the idea of them, together, in her mind. Trying to figure out how it would settle inside of her, the knowledge, the weight, the sensation of the entire relationship.

It was there, carved permanently in the bark. Right beneath her parents'. But she wasn't freaking out, wasn't scared. She seemed to soften, and she looked down at her feet, and then looked at Duncan.

"It's…" she bit her lip, trying to find a way to describe what was inside of her. "It's weird. But—"

Her eyes landed on the heart again.

She looked to Duncan. She squinted at him, she tugged at the pyjama shirt clinging at her torso, she pressed her lips together and tried to make sense of what she had to do.

"Duncan…" She closed her eyes tightly, breathed in, breathed out. "What if this doesn't work?"

_What if it didn't work?_

He didn't know how to respond. He didn't know anything in that moment: his mind was in a fog. But words found their way, and he felt air slip from his lips in the form of words.

"Who says it won't?"

Her eyes opened.

"I just don't know."

Duncan stared at her. He stared until all he could see was her.

"How will you ever know unless you try?"

Courtney's features flickered. Her lips frowned, relaxed, frowned again—

_Relaxed_.

And then she stepped closer. Her arms slipped around Duncan's neck and she pulled him down slightly. Her lips hovered near, so near he could feel her breath tickling his skin. Their noses brushed, and everything inside of the boy trembled hungrily.

He was drawn to her.

And now she was drawing closer.

* * *

Finally finished packing, Duncan's father slammed the trunk door closed and turned to the group of relatives behind him. He pressed a tight smile on his lips.

"It was very nice of you to have us. We had a wonderful time."

Courtney's father took the man's hand and gave it a shake. "Of course. It was our pleasure."

Nan shifted over to Duncan's grandmother and took the woman's hands. "We must do this again. Next summer we will all come down, yes?"

Denise smiled and nodded eagerly. "Oh, yes! This was so much fun, I had a _great_ time."

After they had exchanged their goodbyes, Nan moved over to Duncan's side. She grinned, and when she'd pulled him down and given him a kiss on the cheek, she whispered by his ear. "You are a good boy, I know you will take care of her." She pulled away, beamed, and left to embrace one of her daughters. Duncan wasn't sure how the little woman had known, but he had an idea that it had something to do with the expression he'd been wearing all morning.

Which, as it turned out, was nothing compared to the smile that erupted when Courtney finally (finally!) pushed through the side door.

Their eyes locked instantly.

She moved through her relatives, stopping politely at each one to say goodbye and promise to call before she finally reached Duncan and stopped before him. For a moment, they did nothing but look at one another.

"So," she started, acting casual.

"So," he repeated in the same tone, but couldn't suppress his grin. Duncan reached to take her hands in his, leaning close to place his lips on her forehead, the tip of her nose, her mouth. He knew the looks he was getting even with his eyes closed— gawks, smirks, an 'I-told-you so!' or two. But it didn't matter. It was only a taste of what they'd receive at school in a couple of weeks.

Courtney pulled back for a moment to look up at Duncan. Her eyes flickered.

"Maria." She smiled softly at him, and then leaned closer, letting her forehead rest against his chin. "It was my mom's name."

He realized right then what she was giving him. It was the final piece to the connection, what she had kept hidden from him. It was the secret she hadn't been able to share with him, the one that she had used as a wall between them. And now it lay bare before Duncan, bright and honest and raw.

The boy seized it. He seized it and he seized her and knew that this time, he would never let go.

* * *

**Just about a million things to say… I'll start with the story.**

**Together the three-shot is called 'Spiralling', an awesome suggestion from ****strayphoenix**** (thank you again!).**** I'm actually quite happy with the way this turned out. I liked being able to play around with Kayla and Nan and let them play their own little roles in the story. I haven't really experimented with new characters since… gosh, since Never Again. Anyway, I hoped you liked it!**

**Okay, so, I know how late this is: **_**crazy**_** late. I don't think I've ever had anything up this late, and I really do apologize for it. To be honest, I was having a lot of trouble finding inspiration for this chapter. A **_**lot**_** of trouble. I think everyone knows what that's like, and how much it sucks. I must have tried to write this about four times over. I would have something written, something I could've posted, but it wouldn't feel right. And of course, you can edit all you want, but a bad idea will just never work. In the end, I deleted it all, took a breather, and started from scratch. I wrote whatever came to mind, and that's what finally brought my love for this back.**

**And I've barely been on FanFiction. That sucked. I've more or less been back on over the past month or so, but I know that I'm not going to really get back into it until I have this chapter up and I start on Gone. Things have been a bit messed up lately, but things are settling again, so things should start working out better.**

**Right, so, moving on…**

**The next chapter will be up MUCH sooner, I can guarantee you that. I've written it already. Yeah. Thanks to those who have been patient with me, I really appreciate it :)**

**On another note: This chapter is dedicated to Cereal-Killa! You have been a great friend, even when I've been the worst PM-er in history. You are an exceptional author, you **_**always**_** make me laugh, and I can talk to you about almost anything. Thank you so much for being there for me, you're awesome :D!**

**Alright, well, to end this author's note: Thank-you, and have a safe and happy holiday season everyone!**


End file.
